


Summoning Candyman

by TheMadPuppy85



Category: Mystic Messenger (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Criminals, Bladder Control, Dubious Consent, F/M, Loss of Control, Master/Pet, Self-Insert, creepy dominant Jumin, shaming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-02
Updated: 2018-03-30
Packaged: 2018-09-21 12:14:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 29,985
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9548552
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheMadPuppy85/pseuds/TheMadPuppy85
Summary: “Jumin Han, Jumin Han, Jumin Han” you repeated in front of the mirror. When you wished for Jumin to be real on Halloween night, you didn’t expect him to turn out to be a criminal lord with a strange pet fetish…





	1. Beware what you wish for

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is already more advanced on [my Tumblr!](http://themadpuppy85.tumblr.com/) I'm slowly moving everything here, hopefully adding additional parts as I do. Enjoy!

“I must have murdered a dozen babies in a past life” you muttered irritably in the empty air. No one was around to hear you pest anyway except your perv of a boss holed in his office, and there was truly no other reasonable explanation but bad karma for your presence in the shadiest coffee shop in town, slicing tomatoes and cheese to top tasteless paninis while you had perfectly good diplomas collecting dust at home.

Alright, that was a bit unfair. Maybe it _also_ had to do with your lack of connections and the shitty state of the economy. As Mr. Misogyny delicately put it when you had dared to mention the topic of a raise, “you’re lucky a machine can’t do your job yet, doll.” It was just your luck working as a barista apparently also meant dealing with his sexual harassment on a daily basis too.

_It could be worse_ , you consoled yourself. Aldo was a pig, but he prided himself in offering the latest trends to his gangsta chic clientele, meaning you made good tips off the overpriced drinks. It paid the bills and it kept you off the streets, which was more than you could say for most people nowadays—the honest crowd, anyway.  

Still, that’s not how you had envisioned your future when you had been slaving at school. You were supposed to get a position in a nice white collar place—an office, a law firm, a governmental bureau, anywhere really with late night parties and potential husbands to fraternize with—get engaged within the year, and pay you debts in record time. Heck, at this hour, your fiancé would be calling you to beg you to quit and let him take care of you—

_Stop dreaming_ , you chided yourself as you moved to the lettuce. _Even_ if you had snagged a boyfriend, modern guys were not like Jumin Han, the hot corporate heir from _Mystic Messenger_. They didn’t have the romantic inclinations for such grand sweeping gestures and weren’t nearly rich enough to dote on you like that. That’s why Jumin was a dating sim fantasy in the first place, because he was an ideal that couldn’t be found in the real world.

_If only_ , you sighed internally. For the hundredth time, you wished you could summon Jumin into existence. You could imagine the scenario already, straight out of a bad fanfiction; a homeless lady would sell you this creepy voodoo kit one night, and after much hesitation ( _this is silly! But what if..?)_ , you’d burn red ribbons, Persian cat hair and a few blurry pictures to make him appear. Nothing would happen at first and you’d dismiss the whole ritual as a fraud until there’d be a loud knocking at your door, and with your heart thundering with hope, you’d open it to reveal his black hair and pinstriped suit—wait, no no no, rewind and scratch that. You wouldn’t be partial to details. He could have blond hair, like checkered shirts, prefer dogs and be the next Steve Jobs instead of an import and export expert if he wanted, just as long as he kept that beautiful obsessive devoted love at his core—

“Ouch!” you squeaked as you mindlessly knifed your own hand instead of the vegetable. _Stupid! That’s what you get for daydreaming!_ you berated yourself as you brought the hurt finger to your mouth. Blood was pearling off the wound already, and you continued to rage as you sucked it off.  Why didn’t you just repeat _Jumin Han, Jumin Han, Jumin Han_ in front of the mirror while you were at it? It was Halloween night, maybe Jumin would pull a Candyman on you and poof in a purple cloud of smoke just to humor your ridiculous—

The chime of the doorbell distracted you from your recriminations, and your breath was stolen away as you turned your head to welcome the incomer. He was a supremely handsome man of the dark and mysterious variety, all trench coat, sliced back hair and aviator shades despite the late hour—and a wealthy one at that, if his poise and shining shoes were any indication.

“Hi! Can I offer you a—” the chirpy words died on your lips as he superbly ignored you and proceeded to seat himself in the farthest booth, all the while barking orders in his cellphone.

“How dare you tell me to meet you in this dingy hole—no! I don’t want to hear it! Get there in ten minutes or I fire you, do you understand?”

_Well someone is having a bad day_ , you reflected resentfully, then tried to shrug it off. As disappointing as it was to be so bluntly overlooked, it was best to leave entitled customers like him alone until he signaled he was ready to order if you wanted to see the color of that tip. God knows you needed the patronage if you didn’t want to feast on crackers for the rest of the week.

You couldn’t stop observing him from the corner of your eye though as you busied yourself filling the displays. There was just something magnetic about him that commanded attention—you had no doubt he was some kind of natural leader. Maybe one of these corporate-bred elites that copied their styles from the local mob? It was hard to tell. He had pulled a red thread out of his pocket to play with, creating random figures like a game of cat’s cradle, yet he kept tugging at it as he might use it as a garrotte anytime; it was both unsettling and utterly fascinating.

The backfiring noise of a motorcycle approaching saved you from gawking too openly, and the doorbell chimed again as its rider stormed in.

“Did I make it on time, your Highness?!” he fumed as he took off his helmet, and your jaw nearly dropped off as white hair cascaded out of it. He was so stunningly _pretty_ he looked like an angel—a foul-mouthed one with bad habits, you decided as he joined his somber counterpart in the booth and took cigarettes out of his leather jacket.

_I suppose there’s no harm_ , you rationalized as he lit one up. Aldo wouldn’t like you to piss off customers with health regulations when nobody else was around to complain, and you didn’t want the black-haired alpha out of your eyesight just yet, not before you had a chance to talk to him—you’d just ventilate the store after they were gone.

“I’m sorry your silver-spooned ass is too good for this place” was ranting the pretty man, “Mister Boss _Sir_ ” he amended as his employer rose an eyebrow in warning, and you cringed at his rudeness. Was he fearless or just stupid?

“Careful, Zion” just replied his superior, completely unruffled as he pocketed the red string. His voice was now a smooth monotone that reminded you vaguely of a snake. “Now did you find—”    

“Fuck you. My balls are half frozen because you had me running around all day, so I’m going to take a goddamn coffee before answering any of your questions, capiche?” He motioned for you to come, and you hurried to their table. “Relax, okay? Janet said this place had the best coffee in town. Take a cup, try to be human for once. You might like it” he insisted less belligerently.

“Good evening, gentlemen, might I recommend—” you started, taking your cue from the lull in conversation, but was promptly cut off.

“Whatever is more expensive” ordered the dark-haired man, not even giving you a glance as you handed them the menus, but you were too giddy to be disappointed by this second dismissal. The most expensive item on the list was a supersized Kopi Luwak, which raked 80$; unless he was a stingy miser, it looked like you’d be able to afford steak tomorrow.

“Do you even know the shit you’re ordering?” guffawed Zion as he perused the list. “Because it’s shit, literally! Coffee beans shit by toddy cats in Sumatra!”

“In my experience what’s expensive is also the best. Unless you’re just afraid? Or broke?” he taunted, earning himself a hateful gaze as Zion slammed the menu down and slid it back to you.

“Game on, my prince. You better not cry because your pampered taste buds can’t take it” he mocked, then turned to you as if he didn’t just diss his boss, all smile and rockstar charm. “Two of them, babe. And a pumpkin scone too for me.”

_It’s Christmas in October_ , you rejoiced as you rushed back to the counter to prepare the drinks. A bit foolishly, you hoped it would impress the dark man enough to warrant his notice this time. It was masochistic given his jerk attitude, but you just could _feel_ a tendril of infatuation forming in your stomach.

_Maria would laugh at me if she was here_ , you reflected as you imagined your absent co-worker’s reaction. You wouldn’t have been able to explain it yourself, even less considering there was another target just as gorgeous and far more agreeable right besides him, but something was pressing you to try again for his attention, just so you’d know his name or the color of his eyes, at least.

“Here we go, gentlemen” you announced joyfully as you returned to their table, balancing the giant coffees and the crispy pastry on a silver tray, “two Kopi Luwak and a pumpkin sco—”

Time stood still as the man took off his glasses just as you extended your arm and bore his grey orbs into yours, electrifying you with their intensity. For a moment the universe dimmed to the black of his pupils, where you saw your reflection not as a waitress in Aldo’s coffee shop, but as a wanton in his lap, naked, begging and lustful past all shame or propriety; it was so vivid you could almost feel his touch scorching your skin with the unforgiving fire of hell, making you tremble from head to toe. In horror, you watched the tray topple out of your grasp like a catastrophe in slow motion, and the 170$ order crash on the floor in a billion pieces.

“ ** _Ohmygod!_** Oh my god I’m so sorry! I’m sorry! Sir, are you alright? Did you get hurt?” you panicked as you fell on the floor and tried to assess the damage. Mercifully, nothing had landed on them except a few droplets, and your forced yourself into action by sponging the liquid with your apron and collecting the ceramic pieces in a pile. “I’m—I’m going to clean this right away, and be right back with your order, and—I’m so sorry!” you apologized again before bolting back to the kitchen, your cheeks burning red in mortification and distress.

“Not bad, dude” commented Zion after you were gone. “Now you terrify girls with your stare alone! I’m not sure if I should congratulate you” he chuckled.

“That wasn’t fear” muttered the man, as if freshly out of a trance himself. His pupils were now all dilatated, making his whole irises black, and he suddenly rose up to stride after you.

“Wait, where are you going? Stop! She’s scared enough, don’t make it worse!.. Argg, damn rich kid” sighed Zion as he saw his boss disappear in the back. Honestly, he had only seen him this way when preparing to torture someone, and the little chick didn’t deserve his wrath. Unless it was arousal?… Nah. Impossible. Bending down to pick the scone, he started munching on it while waiting for the fuss to be over.

***

“You **_idiot!_** ” roared Aldo in your face, having left his office after witnessing the whole fiasco on camera. “You fucking, _stupid_ twit—”  

“I’m sorry, I’ll pay it back! I promise!” you fumbled in dismay, your mind spiralling with dead ends. If Aldo took it off your pay, how would you meet the rent’s payment? Your landlord wasn’t kind enough for extensions. Would your mom let you borrow money? What about the food? Oh god—

“ ** _Pay?_** I should fire you right away! Do you even know who you just almost scalded to death, you braindead chit? That’s Jehan Quinn! **_Jehan Quinn!_** ” he repeated, stressing the name as one would invoke the Grim Reaper, and you nearly vomited on the spot.

Jehan Quinn. The criminal lord who made a fortune off the trade of odopium, the flower producing the only known remedy for the new lentivirus that had plagued the land a few years ago. The one people would gossip about in hushed tones, fearful of his retaliation. The very same who was infamous for crucifying policemen up the road to his estate.

And here you almost dunked him in two liters of boiling water.

“I’m sorry, Aldo. I’ll go apologize again. I’ll—” your head was spinning. What _could_ you do? This was a nightmare. The only way it could get worse would be if—

“No need” resounded his baritone behind you, and you nearly fainted with fright as you turned around and saw him coming through the door. Now that you knew who he was, he seemed that much more intimidating, almost like a panther. “I’m not so petty as to take offence from honest mistakes, no matter your slanderous insinuation” he pointed, making you do a doubletake in incredulity and Aldo crumple and trip over himself.

“My apologies, Mister Quinn, I swear I didn’t mean it that way—”

“No one ever does” stated Jehan tiredly before turning to let his gaze roam over you, and you tried hard not to fidget despite his previous words. You felt more observed than threatened, as if he was trying to resolve a bothersome equation rather than planning your death, but you couldn’t help the stiffness in your muscles as you instinctively hunched to make yourself smaller. Why did you ever wish for this guy’s attention? If he wasn’t angry at you, could he go now?

“Please don’t be afraid” requested Jehan at last, his tone notably softer. His hand rose as to touch your shoulder, then lowered, as if he was thinking better of it. “I’ll pay the bill. And if that distasteful man give you trouble about it again, give me a call.” He took his card out of his pocket to hand it to you, and you furtively took it, barely meeting his gaze as you nodded gratefully.

“I’ll take my leave then…no, before that, please give me your number too, Miss. I wouldn’t want not to recognize you” he specified, and you shakily reached for your phone, wordlessly giving it to him so he could search for the number himself. You were too shocked to remember it at the moment; you hoped he would understand.

“Good. I’ll check on you later then” he promised after he was done, glancing meaningfully at Aldo. “Have a good night.”

***

Half an hour later, sitting in the bathroom, you were still trying to digest how you had gone from nearly ruining your life to having the most powerful man in town on your contact list. Aldo had closed the shop and barricaded himself in his office, telling you to take as much time as you needed to recuperate before heading home, almost sickening you with his syrupy concern. It felt surreal, and you were debating whether or not you should throw your phone away and buy another one. It wouldn’t stop someone like Jehan Quinn from finding you if he wanted to, but it would feel less… awkward. As in, _what the hell did I just got myself into?_ _Would it be best for me to emigrate in Antarctica?_ The cold was not so bad once you were used to it, apparently, and perhaps you could start a business selling cute postcards of polar bears—

_Ding_ , went your phone, and your eyes went wide as the screen displayed the ID. All things considered, maybe you could just be smart and answer when the terrifying mob boss called.

“H-hello?…Hi?” you stuttered hesitantly, not sure if you were supposed to sound more polite or add an honorific like _Mr. Quinn_. As far as you knew perhaps he was about to say he changed his mind about the 170$ and he wanted a refund pronto or sell your organs on the black market.

“Did your employer bully you?” came the monotone voice at the end, and your shoulders nearly sagged with relief.

“H-he was fine, thanks for asking. I’m about to go home now.”

“You’re still at work? You should be careful. I heard the clowns were dangerous this year” he advised. Maybe it was your imagination, but he actually sounded…genuinely concerned.

“I’ll…keep that in mind. Thank you for the warning” you added, not even trying to understand his logic about clowns. “Is…is that all?” you added as he stayed silent. Were you supposed to hang up? Would that be rude?

“For now. I’ll call you again tomorrow.”

The line went dead, and your heart nearly gave out too. This definitely couldn’t be real. Jehan Quinn would be calling you again. Tomorrow. For no reason. A nervous giggle escaped your lips as you repeated the words out loud. Who knew, maybe karma wasn’t such a bitch after all?

***

Jehan looked at his phone pensively. A few hours ago, he had been thoroughly irritated by the strange impulse he had to wait for Zion in that gaudy café instead of just telling him to screw himself; now the reason was clear. It was fate; he could feel—no, he _knew_ that the girl had seen the same thing as he did when their eyes met. The moans, the sweat, the passion… She was born to be his, and he’d have it all. The corners of his lips were itching to stretch into a smile; the sensation was utterly foreign, but not unwelcome.

“I can’t see you, but you sound in a good mood” commented his friend from his side of the car. “Did something happen?”  

“Yes. Remember when you told me I should get a pet, V?”

“I do” replied the teal-haired man, adjusting his glasses over his blind eyes as if he was recalling the event. “You scoffed at me, if I remember well.”

“I think I finally found one to my liking” murmured Jehan, looking at the city lights blur outside the window. It would take time to tame her, but he had plenty of it; and for the first time in his life, he actually felt…happy.  


	2. There’s no harm in a gift

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so glad everyone is enjoying the concept of this fic! It is already more advanced on my [Tumblr](http://themadpuppy85.tumblr.com/), if you guys are curious, or you can also check my [Twitter](https://twitter.com/themadpuppy85) if you want to know the progress in my writing. Thank you, and enjoy!

“Hurry, faster, _faster_ ” you willed the bus under your breath. Jehan hadn’t said when he’d call again, but you prayed it wouldn’t be while you were sandwiched between a gross gorilla sweating grease and an old lady smelling like cat piss. “Awkward” wouldn’t even begin to describe the situation, and you wished to leave a better impression this time.

 _I must really be masochistic to look forward to it_ , you reflected as yet more passengers got in, squeezing you almost painfully against the stanchion you were holding on for support. Aldo’s sudden change was welcome, but you were not foolish enough not to see the danger of retaining Jehan’s interest, no matter how benevolent he had seemed yesterday. As Maria had reasonably put this morning when you had told her the news, all you could do was hope that last night’s events had been at best an altruistic whim, at worse a demonstration of power, and that it was the end of it.

Still, you couldn’t help the butterflies in your stomach as you approached your stop. His presence had been terrifying, but his words had made you feel so… _special_. What did he want to talk about? What if he wanted to call again? Perhaps you should rehearse a few times so you didn’t stutter so badly when you’d greet him—

 _Ding_ , went your phone, and you cursed a river as you fumbled to grab it and answer the call. Of all the times, when you had to fight your way through the jam-packed crowd to reach the exit—

“Hello?” you almost shouted in the receiver just as you jumped out, your heart beating wildly in nervousness, before letting out a long sigh. “No, Mom, I didn’t hear about what happened to great uncle Francis, and frankly right now I don’t care” you replied tiredly. That was rude, but then so was she. Whatever happened to _how are you, my daughter_ instead of relatives you had never seen? “Look, I’m waiting for an important call so I’ll call you back later, okay?” you tried, then bit your lips in frustration as she continued to rant on. “Mom, I said I’d call you back!” you protested as you climbed the spiral staircase to your apartment. “No, I wasn’t just trying to get rid of you, I swear! I’m truly waiting for—I have to go” you hung up abruptly as you saw the box in front of your door.  

 _I don’t remember ordering anything_ , you pondered as you curiously picked it up. The logo was easily recognizable – Bamazon – but it had been a long time since you could afford any luxury, even a cheap DVD on sale at 2.99$ for Black Friday. Maria wasn’t doing so well financially either, and you didn’t have any other friend close enough to fork out money for no reason—

 _It can’t be_ …you wondered as one insidious guess popped up in your mind, and you hurried inside to check the packing slip, almost cutting yourself again in your excitation. Sure enough, it announced _Order paid by Jehan Quinn_ , followed by what was probably his business address, and you squealed in delight upon seeing the contents. All of it was food— _good_ food, not the cheapest brand or the day’s special at the supermarket. Belgian chocolates. Turkish pistachios. French fruit jellies. Nothing you wouldn’t be able to afford yourself if you weren’t so damn tight in your budget, which was tactfully considerate of your pride.

 _I should thank him right away_ , you thought as you groped for his card in your bag, barely resisting the impulse to tear everything open and stuff your cheeks full with the bite-sized delicacies. _What if he’s busy though?_ you hesitated as your thumb hovered over the phone’s digits. He surely wouldn’t want to be disturbed if he was in the middle of a deal; perhaps it would even anger him. _A text then_ , you decided resolutely. Waiting wouldn’t be polite. “Thank you for…the food…it all looks…very delicious” you enunciated as you typed, pressing _send_ before you could change your mind. It’s not like he was going to reply to that anyway—

 _Ding_ , went your phone, and you nearly plastered your ear in your haste to take it.

“Hello?” you squeaked, internally cringing at your voice. It sounded like you had inhaled helium.

“I’m glad you like it” came the smooth monotone, sending a rush of adrenaline down your spine. It was happening. You were truly talking again with Jehan Quinn! “Forgive me for assuming so, but I thought you didn’t have the opportunity to sample some lately.”

“You guessed right? Ha ha ha!” you laughed in a self-deprecating manner, not knowing what to reply to that. If it was his way to say you looked poor, it was almost poetic. “I can’t remember last time I ate such fancy chocolate, so truly thank you” you reiterated, your heart tethering between relief and disappointment that it was all he wanted.

“Sweet tooth, I see” continued Jehan conversationally, not taking note of your thanks or your bated breath. “I’m quite partial to the _pate de fruits_ myself.”

 _Pate de what?_ you puzzled frantically, your mind almost blank with his desire to chat you up before connecting the dots as you scanned the boxes for a clue. _The French fruit jellies!_ “Yes! They’re very nice and cute to look at! I never tried some before, so again thank you.”

“You didn’t?” he replied with just a hint of perplexity, making you wince in embarrassment. You must have sounded like a commoner. “That’s a shame. Well then, might I suggest that you try…”

***

“So let me get this straight” said Maria as you finished counting the store’s inventory three weeks later, furiously tapping her pen against her clipboard. “Every night you go home and there’s a gift from him waiting at your door?”

“Pretty much. Then he calls and ask me how I liked it and we have a nice conversation” you replied, turning your face back towards the shelves so she wouldn’t see you blush. She sounded disapproving enough already.

“Uh-hu. Nice conversation, sure. Did he get to the part where he’s asking if he plied you with enough dough yet to get in your pants?”

“ _Maria!_ ” you admonished, now fully regretting having shared your secret. You just hadn’t been able to resist any longer when she had wondered why you were so radiant lately. “I told you it wasn’t like that! He’s a complete gentleman. And it’s only food, not diamonds and lingerie!”

Honestly, you understood her reserve, but it was true that it was still just food, and not even extravagant treats like Italian truffles or matsutake mushrooms either. In fact, you were starting to fear Jehan was seeing you as some kind of charity case. Hadn’t he mentioned he thought of groceries because you looked _undernourished?_ Talk about feeding a girl’s insecurity about her body!  

“Alright, so he’s waiting for you to fatten your boobs enough to get a good squeeze out of them. How generous of him!” she mocked, flipping her raven hair away from her face dramatically.

“You’re so crude. He’s not like that” you repeated, getting oddly defensive. “We talk about all sorts of things, like music and movies and sports…He’s very excited about his new pet. Isn’t that cute? He makes me guess, but I think it’s a kitten” you revealed brightly, hoping to derail the conversation, but your coworker would have none of it.

“Do you think psychos always talk about how psycho they are? God! Can’t you see what a creep he’s being? He’s that hunter in the forest taming his prey with food so they lower their guard enough for a good shot! He’s—” she stopped mid-rant upon noticing your stricken face. “Look, I don’t mean to upset you. It’s just, one month ago, you were considering if you should change identities, and now..!”

“Well, opinions change” you pointed out sullenly. How bad could he truly be if Zion had gotten away with such blatant disrespect? The rumors about him had to be exaggerated. Or maybe he was a completely different man in private?

“Sister, I get it. He’s rich. He’s hot. He’s everything that ridiculous character from your beloved _Magic Chatroom_ game is—”

“ _Mystic Messenger_ ” you corrected automatically.

“—whatever, you know the one I’m talking about. _Except he’s a criminal._ A _dangerous_ one. And I get it, I totally do, bad boys are sexy as hell, but you don’t need to aim that high to get your fix, you know what I mean?” she sighed, before snapping her manicured fingers. “What about my cousin Marco? He’s full of tattoos. And he has golden teeth. Oh! And he’s into weapon smuggling too, that got to count on your radar, right?” she added with a wriggle of her eyebrows, as if that made him irresistible.

“Please” you chuckled weakly, rolling your eyes. You had seen Marco once at Maria’s birthday party; an ox had more brains and charm that he did, and even she knew it.

“You never know, if you release the beast…” she joked, before sobering up. “Just…be careful, alright? You’re my friend. I don’t want you to get hurt” she said sincerely, wrapping her arms around you for a quick hug.

You returned it, glad that the tense atmosphere was dissipating, but your mind was elsewhere. Only 25 minutes before the end of the shift. Then you’d get home and see what Jehan got for you today.

***

 _An assortment of fine teas. Perfect,_ you reflected as you flipped the lids. What Maria said was gnawing at you, and you longed to dispel the heavy feeling floating over you since. Why would a powerful guy like Jehan Quinn need to pepper a girl with gifts for a one-night stand? That didn’t make sense. His interest in you _had_ to be genuine, if yet undefined, and the tea set was your ticket to prove it.

 _Which one do you recommend I try first?_ you typed eagerly, then waited for your phone to ring, which consistently happened less than a dozen seconds later.

“The Darjeeling. It should go well with a dark chocolate cake” came his smooth reply, making you shiver. He really had a nice baritone voice, now that you were used to it.

“I’ll be sure to bake one then. In fact, I was thinking…” you trailed off, suddenly unsure. This was more nerve-wracking than the first times he had insisted you called him Jehan instead of Mr. Quinn, which was absurd. You shouldn’t fear his answer.

“Yes? Go on” he pressed gently.

“…I was thinking food is best when it’s shared?” you tried, hoping he’d get the hint, but it backfired horribly.

“ ** _No._** You will _not_ share what I give you with **_anyone_** , understand?” he hissed, his tone now ice cold, and you scrambled to clear the misunderstanding, half choked with fright.

“Of course I won’t! I meant sharing with _you!_ ” you amended, going for the plainest version possible. “I was thinking I’d love to have tea with you one day. Just with you. No one else” you explained, getting even more anxious as the silence stretched. “Jehan?”

“…I’m sorry for my outburst then. Unfortunately, I’m always busy” he replied at last, and you blinked compulsively as tears threatened to spill out.

“Busy. Always. Yes, I see. Of course you are. I’m sorry. That was stupid of me. That’s—I’ll hang up, okay? Thanks for the tea. Bye” you rambled in a rush, pressed to cut off the communication before he could detect the lump in your throat.

 _Busy_ , you repeated internally as you started to tremble. Jehan Quinn had just said the male equivalent of _not now, I have a headache_. Whatever was his kick at spoiling you and chatting you up every night, it looked you were not even worth seeing as a booty call. Just how foolish had you been to even think you might have been _special_ to him?

 _Maria is wrong_ , you decided as you curled on your bed.  Jehan wasn’t even close to Jumin Han. Jumin would have dropped everything the moment he heard the MC might have felt lonely without him. Powering your cellphone off, you let the sobs rack you to sleep.

***

“Why isn’t she picking up?” came the tense question through the car’s speakers, and Simon knew better than to jest his boss when he was in that mood.

“I think she closed her phone off, sir? It looks like she’s crying” he answered as he adjusted his binoculars. Seriously, that method of spying was so archaic he should consider asking a raise as a reenactor of times past. “You know, if you allowed me to bug the apartment as I suggested—”

“No. A lady deserves privacy” was the inflexible reply, leaving him to wonder how having two strangers following her around was any more respectful before his twin piped up.

“I say we just lead her to another apartment and tell her she can’t get out because of a bomb” suggested Sebastian with this darkly gleeful air that gave nightmares to a grown man. “Target acquired, mission complete!”

“That’s sick, bro.”

“You’re right. Cowards like you would let the girl walk in and not say anything about the bomb at all unless she was about to leave. Much better” scoffed his brother, and Simon massaged the bridge of his nose under his glasses as he sensed another migraine coming. Reacting to Sebastian’s pique wasn’t worth it.

“Boss, it’ll be three weeks now” he commented, trying to refocus the discussion. “Why don’t you just make your intentions clea—”

“ ** _No._** I’m _not_ my father and I _won’t_ win her with perfumes or jewels like a cheap whore.”

“Who said those gifts were codes for ordering a slut?” despaired Simon. “What about just going on a date or just—”

“Whore or not, I hardly see the difference considering what you intend to do with h— _nmmph!_ ” sniggered Sebastian before Simon crushed his mouth with his hand to silence him.

“Ha ha ha! What my brother is trying to say is— ** _ow!_** Seb, don’t bite me, fuck!—who cares about the means as long as you get results?”

“No. This girl is to be my pet, and a wild animal never becomes truly faithful unless it’s domesticated. I need to talk to Assistant King. Keep watching and notify me if anything new happens.”

“Sure thing, boss” replied Simon, mockingly saluting the empty air before slumping on his seat. “Get cozy, bro, that’s going to be another long night.”

“Whatever he meant by that?” asked Sebastian, a flicker of his dirtied innocence filtering through the question.

“He meant that’s he’s a huge perv. Like, really huge.” Grabbing another bag of Honey Chakra chips, he sipped the last of his Dr. Pepper can before resuming his stakeout.

***

 _Thankfully Maria is away_ , you thought as you entered the store. She had left a note, something about her little sister Elena being sick with the flu, and you blessed the germs of this world. You wouldn’t have been able to face her pleased pity, no matter how well-meaning she would have been about it. In fact, if every customer could be sick with the flu and leave you blissfully alone to mope, you’d be grateful.

 _I look so terrible anyway I’ll probably scare them away_ , you reflected with a snort as you put on your apron. You didn’t need a mirror to confirm it—you could just feel how puffy and bloodshot your eyes were, courtesy of Mr. Quinn.

“It’s better this way” you repeated firmly, letting the iron weight of reason sink over your heart. You hadn’t opened your phone back yet and you’d never will. It was time to do what you should have done for the start—go to the Weston Mall straight after work, exchange your phone for a new model and just forget about it all—

The doorbell chimed, followed by a baritone you now knew too well.

“I didn’t mean I didn’t want to see you yesterday. Can we talk?” came the apology, and your heart did a somersault that could be called _nauseated elation_ as you turned around to look at him in disbelief. You were about to puke. You were too happy. You felt great! It was a nightmare.

And good god, he was just as handsome as the first time you saw him.

“No! I mean yes!” you blundered like an idiot. “I mean…take a seat, I’ll bring you a menu” you tried to slink away, but he caught you by the wrist.

“I’m sorry. I’m not…used to this. Can you believe I had to ask my assistant to explain how much I must have sounded like a cad?” he confessed, bringing your hand up to kiss it. “I am truly busy though—I had to tell one of my associates to meet me here in order to see you. But I’ll make time soon, if you could wait a little longer?”

“Yes” you breathed, unable to move. The contact of his lips of your skin had rooted you on the spot, robbing you of your will to escape.

“Good girl. Did you cry because of me?” he asked, his other hand slowly rising to caress your cheek, and you controlled your impulse to jump away. Your heart was drumming a staccato of hope and terror. Jehan Quinn was right there. Caressing your face. Looking satisfied. And he hadn’t let go of your hand yet.

“No, I…I watched Dumbo” you lied after a confused beat, remembering his question, and wishing the earth would just open and swallow you to hell at the very moment you said it. Why couldn’t you say something noble like _The English Patient_ , at least, instead of fucking kiddie movie _Dumbo?_ “It’s a sad Pisney movie, you wouldn’t know about it” you added precipitously as he arched an eyebrow.

“Is that so?” he inquired, a strange smile floating on his lips. “I’d say something about you lying to me just now, but seeing you blush like that is worth it, so I’ll let it slide” he said graciously. There was something in the silent _don’t do it again though_ that made your skin crawl before getting lost in the rest of your turmoil.

“What is… I mean what you…” you tried desperately to say _what do you want_ , but your capacity to think was overwhelmed. Was he bending down? Was he about to _kiss you?_

“Shh. You’re doing fine. I think we’re ready for the next step now” he murmured. All you could see was his grey orbs, boring into yours with a hypnotic quality, and you just stopped breathing altogether, expecting, _dreading_ —

“Don’t turn off your phone again, do you understand?” he announced, waiting for you to nod before taking a step back, breaking the charm. “I think you’ll be happy of my gift tonight” he predicted, kissing your hand again before turning and striding away, leaving you blinking and wondering what he meant with your hand still hanging in mid-air.

You found your answer at home once the box opened not on food, but on a dress, a cute little number of white chiffon with a red sash, along with a message that nearly suffocated you in happiness.

 _I hope you’ll do me the pleasure of wearing this next time I see you_ , it simply stated, and you twirled around while squealing in glee, hopping on your tip toes in front of the mirror.

This wasn’t a dream, right? Jehan hadn’t said the word _date_ , but this _had_ to mean he wanted to court you. After all, if Jumin Han had fallen in love with the heroine at first sight despite his previously stiff attitude, why couldn’t it happen to _you?_


	3. An offer you can’t refuse

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not entirely satisfied with this chapter, but as more talented people once said to me, I have to accept this is the best it's going to get for the moment and move forward. As always, this fic is already more advanced on my [Tumblr](http://themadpuppy85.tumblr.com/)! Also check my [Twitter](https://twitter.com/themadpuppy85) if you want to know the progress in my writing, and enjoy!

_Eight missed calls from Jehan Quinn_ announced your phone when you turned it back on, and you blushed in pleasure. He must have tried to reach you all night long, which was further proof in your book that he truly cared about you.

Strong with this feeling, you didn’t go straight back home after work the next day. Instead, you went to the Weston Mall to shop for some basic cosmetics and shoes. It was possible to afford some now with the little disposable income eating Jehan’s food let you save, and you wanted to be prepared for whenever he wanted to see you. The dress deserved to be matched with high heels, and while you weren’t confident in all your attributes, you knew you had pretty eyes. Some nude matte shadow and a coat of mascara would do wonders to enhance them subtly. Jehan had made it clear he preferred a natural look when you two had discussed your favourite actresses, and you wanted to put all the chances on your side.

 _Speak of the devil_ , you thought happily as your phone rang. It was rare he called unless you texted him first.

“Hi, Jehan! How are you?”

“ _Why aren’t you home yet?_ ” came the annoyed reply, but you were more puzzled by his question. How did he know you were not home yet? Was he tracking you through your phone GPS? That sounded a bit extreme.

“I’m…shopping? Alone” you specified. After that fiasco with the tea, you were not about to commit the same mistake of letting him misunderstand. “I-I bought some stuff to be pretty in the dress” you admitted shyly, twirling a lone strand of hair around your finger.

“I see. That’s okay, then” he said, much more gently. He hadn’t commented much yesterday, but you got the vibe that he was pleased with your excitation to wear it. “But you should have let me know. I was worried when I didn’t receive your text for the new box” he explained, and you wanted to smack yourself. Of course that’s how he knew you weren’t home! What did you imagine earlier? Maria’s spiel was getting to you.

“Sorry. I won’t forget next time” you promised contritely.

“Do you know how adorable you sound when you apologize to me?” he replied, his voice sliding like pure velvet in your ears. It made you want to confess sins you didn’t commit just to have him praise you again. “It’s getting late now. I’ll send you a cab.” 

“What? No, you don’t need to—!” you protested. At this distance, with the extras for the bridge and the quarantined zone, the fare would be exorbitant.

“I insist. It’s not safe outside at this hour” he stressed, his tone leaving no room for argument.

“O-okay, then” you agreed, melting inside. You were not eager to walk in the cold anyway, and the way he said it was just so protective and sweet.

“Text me the second you’re home” he ordered, and you clutched the phone to your chest as soon as he hung up. Rich, handsome, generous, concerned and just a tad possessive; could things get any better? This felt like a _dream_ , and nothing would convince you otherwise.

***

“Jehan? Are you busy?” you called directly, praying he wasn’t. You needed him to explain what was happening so you could calm down.

“Do you like my gift?” he inquired instead, and you nodded even if he couldn’t see you. The box laid open a few feet away from you, full of books about wine tasting, tea brewing, and all sorts of refined hostess skills this time. If you weren’t so nervous right now, you’d be overjoyed of the unspoken message that he wished you to learn them to—hopefully—show you off at his side.

“I did! They all look very interesting and I’ll start reading them tonight, it’s just…” you trailed off, unsure how to address the matter.

“What is it? You sound stressed” he inquired, and you took a deep breath. It’d be fine. He wouldn’t get upset just because you wanted to understand what was going on.

“Well, I received bills today too…my phone bill, my electricity bill, my student loan bill…” you enumerated in example, then bit the bullet as he didn’t take the perch. Plainest seemed to work best with Jehan anyway. “…But they all showed that they were paid in full now. By _you_.”

“Yes. I bought all your debts” he confirmed proudly. “You don’t have to worry about them anymore.”

“But I don’t want to be indebted to you!” you blurted before biting your lip in panic. That came out as if you were _rejecting_ him, which was not the case at all; thankfully Jehan didn’t sound offended, just surprised.

“Why not? You’re the one who told me it was the main reason you were eating poorly, and for me it’s hardly an expense. If it’s a matter of pride, I’ll let you refund me without charging interest, but you truly don’t have to. Isn’t it better this way?”

“It is…” you replied feebly, growing unsure why you were so unnerved in the first place.  Payments without interest and on your own terms was a wonderful deal, and you should have been ecstatic, really, it’s just… “I would have appreciated if you had asked me before” you pleaded, holding to that bit of outrage. Surely even someone as used to command as Jehan understood you couldn’t make life-changing decisions without consulting the other party?  

“Yes, you’re right. I should have warned you to avoid confusion” he conceded. “In that case, I suppose you would prefer handing in your resignation yourself tomorrow instead of having me call?”  

“ _What?”_ you sputtered in disbelief. “Why would I quit?”

“Isn’t that obvious? Working at that dingy hole is beneath you. I can give you a much better job, with a decent apartment right next to it. Would tomorrow afternoon be alright to move your belongings?”

“Wait! Jehan, that’s too fast!…” you objected, your head spinning with the effort to keep up with his mad planning. You felt like you were about to faint. He couldn’t be serious!

“Is it? I thought you’d be glad to be out of that place and not live in a hovel anymore” he pointed, a note of frustration creeping in his usual smooth tone as you stayed silent. “I’m only doing this for your happiness. Why are you being difficult when all I want is to take care of you?”

“I’m not! Of course I’d love to have you care for me!” you cried in dismay. “It’s just… overwhelming, that’s all, I mean….” you added, trying to squash your unease. What was wrong with you? Hadn’t you dreamt of this barely a month ago? A smitten guy that would sweep you off your feet and take care of all your worries? It’d be stupid to hesitate just because he was being a bit brusque about it, especially if you were right about his intentions. If he could just _confirm_ it…

“Jehan?…” you asked timidly, after an intense internal debate where the pro of knowing barely won over the risk of angering him somehow. One word, one short, single word, that’s all you needed to stop feeling anxious. “W-why are you doing this?”

“Because I want to” he answered bluntly, as if that explained everything. There was a pause, as he seemed to consider something. “Don’t you _want_ me to want to?”

“I do! I do!” you swore. His answer was so frustratingly _vague_ , so everything you wanted to hear and not at the same time, and yet, no matter the possibility you could come up with, there wasn’t one you could imagine _not_ wanting. “Just… Give me two weeks, okay? I can’t leave Maria alone like that.”

***

“I don’t understand why she didn’t sound thrilled” said Jehan as he hung up his phone. He hadn’t expected that degree of resistance, and frankly it annoyed him.

“Then it seems like the object of your affections has more brains that I credited her for, Mr. Quinn” commented his assistant cynically as she entered his office. It was designed to impress, with huge aquariums and plush leather sofas, making the trip to his desk a good twenty steps.   

“Would you stop referring to her like that? She’s a person, not an object” he remarked, scowling more than he intended to. First his pet was not leaping in joy, and now his assistant was belittling her. The day was full of irritations.

“I beg your pardon, sir, but I’ll only do so when you’ll start treating her like one” she pointed, pushing her glasses up her nose with thinly veiled exasperation. Aside from her skirt and generous breasts, she was perfectly androgynous, as per his directives. “Although I guess from your perspective we’re all things to be used at your leisure, so you wouldn’t know the difference.”

“Is that a critique, Assistant King?”

“No, sir, only my ascertainment of the situation. Sadly, I know how good you are to manipulate people to do your bidding, so I have no doubt you’ll succeed in your plans despite this little setback” she offered with a tight smile, her eyes otherwise dead to the idea of compassion. “Now, please, if you could go over the paperwork so I can meet our lawyers tomorrow about that triple murder accusation…”

***

 _Ding_ , went your phone in the middle of the night, and you checked your table clock blearily. It announced 3:15 in bright green numbers, and you cursed whichever telemarketer thought it was a great business strategy to disturb hard-working folks at this ungodly hour. Throwing a cushion over your phone to muffle the sound, you turned around, intent to return to sleep.

 _Ding_ , _ding, ding,_ kept going your phone, the little chime like an insect in your ear until you couldn’t take it anymore.

“What is it?” you shouted, no even trying to mask how annoyed you were.

“ _Why did it take you so long to pick up?_ ” came the furious reply, and you sit back straight in your bed as you recognized the caller, all desire to sleep forgotten.

“B-because I was sleeping?..” you tried, grasping for further means to appease him. “I’ll change your ringtone to be sure to recognize you and not make you wait in the future!”

“Good. Very good” he replied, his voice going back to normal. “I’m sorry. Of course you must be asleep at this hour. To be honest, I just wanted to hear your voice. You didn’t sound happy earlier” he finished in a murmur.

“It’s okay, I don’t mind!” you lied brightly. Well, more like a half-lie; in the dark of the night, you could pretend he was right next to you, and the idea alone was doing funny things to your navel that you liked _very_ much. “And I told you I was happy! I was just shocked a bit, that’s all. What will my new job be?” you asked, eager to improve his mood.

“A coordinator for my foundation, the _R.F.A_. It stands for Relief Fundraising Association, maybe you’ve heard of it?”

“Y-yes!” you replied, barely believing your ears. The R.F.A was a famous charity fighting for the well-being of the victims of the lentivirus, so a coordinator position was just downright prestigious. You hadn’t thought that Jehan would be implicated in such caritative work, but given he was the main purveyor of odopium, it made sense. “So what will I do exactly? Visit community centers, file out reports, that sort of thing?” you asked excitedly.

“No, no, nothing that bothersome” he chuckled fondly, and you relaxed. He was in a good mood again. “We have a ball coming for Christmas, so I want you to choose and personalize each invitation for our guests. With your sweet and kind personality, I have no doubt you’ll be perfect for this” he added smoothly, the praise making you blush beet red. And that job sounded so enjoyable! “But I’ll tell you more about it once you’re here with me. Can’t you reconsider your two weeks delay?”

“Jehan… I would really feel bad just leaving work like that…” you trailed, willing him to understand. The situation just wouldn’t feel _right_ to you unless you had control over at least one decision in this complete overhaul of your life.

“I see. I wish we were at this point in our relationship where nothing would matter for you but me” he sighed, sending a pool of warmth between your thighs. “I’m not only saying this to be selfish though. I didn’t want to worry you, but… Your neighborhood is not safe anymore. There’s an illegal odopium den that has opened in your block. I can’t stand thinking one of those junkies could attack you anytime.”  

“What?” you stammered, trying to process what he just said. Sometimes, you forgot that Jehan was linked to the crime trade altogether. He just was so… _normal_ over the phone.

“You’re afraid now, aren’t you?” He sounded almost eager. “Don’t be. I’ll send a cab to you right now.”

“Wait, Jehan, no! I mean…I haven’t seen anyone suspicious… It’ll be fine” you insisted. Honestly, staying anywhere near them was spooking you more that you cared to admit, but you didn’t want to give Jehan a reason to overrule you. You had to be firm on this.

“As you wish” he murmured, so dejectedly that you almost felt guilty. “Call me if anything happens, though, alright? I have to call my associate now. Sweet dreams, my pet” he wished before hanging up, leaving you alone to swoon over the cute nickname.

***

 _What a day_ , you thought upon coming home the next day, tiredly throwing your shoes in the closet before shuffling to your bed and letting yourself fall face first in it. It was disappointing, but you also were glad that Jehan hadn’t sent a box; you wouldn’t have been able to muster the energy to properly gush about it. Aldo had been supportive about the news, but Maria had freaked out; it was the world upside down. All day long she had tried to convince you to reject Jehan’s offer, repeating that it was a trap; “at the very least, get your own apartment!” she had begged when you had pointed out that the RFA was a perfectly legitimate organization, not a Mafiosi compound. Her refusal to be happy for you had hurt; distrust of Jehan or not, she should have congratulated you for moving up the social ladder and finally leaving that disgusting flat.

 _I suppose some part of me will miss it though_ , you considered with premature nostalgia. The fridge dated from a previous era where safety was an option, the cheap furniture always threatened to fall apart and all the cabinet doors squeaked horribly, but it had still been _yours_ , that first important step to independence. You could still remember how proud you had been when you had signed the lease, full of hopes and dreams for the future.

 _And now I’ll live them_ , you reminded yourself. Great job, pretty apartment and—hopefully—perfect boyfriend; it was all lined up like Christmas lights. If there was one downside at all, it’d be that Jehan was a criminal lord; but _technically_ , odopium trade wasn’t illegal—it was everything surrounding it that was. In terms of difference, it was minimal, but it gave Jehan just enough leeway with the law to build his massive empire, and it was enough for you not to feel bad about wishing for it anymore.

Plus, even if Jehan hadn’t proposed the job and the apartment, you would have moved out after hearing about that odopium den. You had seen enough of the junkies when you had been job-hunting; the drug itself was a blessing, but had an addictive quality that quickly became a horrible curse if it wasn’t properly managed. People became raving lunatics, more dangerous and insensible to pain than zombies in their quest to get more; you could just imagine what would happen if one of them mistook you for a dealer.

 _Stop fretting about that and move your butt_ , you chided yourself. Laboriously, you rose up from the bed and trudged to the bathroom, bringing your cellphone with you. If Jehan called, you didn’t want to miss it, even if you were wet and naked. 

 _I wonder how he’d react if I told him so?_ you imagined, a mutinous smile floating on your lips as you turned on the faucet and started shampooing your hair. He was always so stiff and in control that it’d be nice to see him flustered for once, just letting you glimpse that sexy inner beast you were sure he was keeping in check—

A loud crash made you jump out of your skin, and you rushed out of the stall, panic rising up through every pore as the most nightmarish yells came through the door.

“Find the bitch! We’ll make her tell us where she hides the goods!” was screaming somebody. More crashes followed as they started ransacking your apartment, and your heart thundered in your chest as you realized the sound was getting closer, _fast_.  They’d be at the bathroom in _seconds._

“ _Ohmygodohmygodohmygod_ —” you spluttered, mind going blank in terror save from one blaring command: _escape immediately_. Your eyes darted to the only other exit, the window reserved for ventilation over the toilet, and you forced yourself into action. Wrapping a towel around you, you sandwiched your phone between your lips before climbing over the seat and pushing the glass panel open. The chilly November air half froze you alive and you threw a back glance to your comfy pajamas before the door shook with the strength of someone barging into it.

“Open the door, bitch! Guys, she’s in there!” howled a deeper voice, and you didn’t wait for the rest. Taking a deep breath, you threw yourself out in the cold, reaching for the safety ladder than ran down the building. The metal was hard and rusted, but you barely felt its frostbite with the adrenaline coursing through your veins. Jumping the last few feet, you ducked between the brick wall and the dumpster just as a first thug passed his head through the window.

“Sweetheart, come back!” he jeered nastily while scanning the alley, and you pressed yourself closer to the container to hide your presence, tears of terror running down your face. “She must not be far! Let’s get back outside!” you heard him bark when he retreated, and you shakily reached for your phone, almost pulling it from your teeth so much your jaw was pressing into it.

“I-I gg-tto caall—ggg ca-a-all” you instructed yourself, willing your fingers to stop trembling long enough to press Jehan’s number and almost breaking a phalanx as you did. You were crying so much you could barely see the screen.

“Hello?” came the beloved monotone, and you lost it completely.

“JehaaaantheyheretheyllfindmehelpmeImsoscaredohgodohgod _ohgod_ ” you wailed as you dissolved into sobs, unable to explain any further. Fear and coldness were turning your words to hiccups and snot, your speech an inarticulate garble. Miraculously, Jehan seemed to understand right away.

“I’m coming. Right now.” His commanding voice dimmed for a second as he barked orders to his driver. “We’ll be there in one minute. Where are you?”

“T-t—dpster” you managed to get out, before sobbing harder. No matter where he was, he would never make it on time. You could hear people coming out of the main entrance already.

“I’m coming, my pet” reassured Jehan, his voice low and taut. “Just stay hidden. Don’t move” he instructed, and you stilled your entire body up to your lungs. There was the metallic noise of a can being kicked behind you reverberating like a gong announcing your capture, and you bit your lips hard enough to draw blood. _Stay silent. Don’t scream. Stay silent!_ “Mason. Carlisle. Dyson” Jehan was saying in your ear, naming the streets leading to your home. You closed your eyes, wishing you could tune out everything that wasn’t him as every second ticked by. Never had the trip sounded so long to you. “Kennedy. Hawthorn. Dillinger” Jehan kept going, and you almost shrieked as something brushed your shoulder until the wind blew it over you—a single newspaper page, tumbling forward. What if it was their hands next? What were they going to _do_ with you? “Tilbury— ** _there!_** ” shouted Jehan, the screeching and lights from his car flooding the alley like a heaven-sent angel just as your attackers turned the corner and spotted you.

The rest was a blur. There was the double echo of gunfire and screams in your ears as Jehan dropped his phone to fight, and yet everything was so dark every flash wouldn’t let you make out who was who and where, until it suddenly went dead silent save from a pair of footsteps getting closer and closer. All your muscles cringed with a last spasm of terror before you recognized Jehan’s shiny shoes stopping in front of you, then his face as he kneeled. His sliced back hair was all messy from the battle, and you desperately tried to make out the words he was saying as his gloved hands reached for you, lifting and pressing you protectively against him while he carried you back to his car. When your brain reengaged again, you were sitting on his lap.

“It’s over, you’re fine now” Jehan was soothing, pushing your head to lay in the crook of his neck with the palm of his hand. He smelt like leather and cologne and something that was male and indisputably _him_ , and you breathed deeply to reassure yourself of his presence. His other hand was gently massaging your fingers to relax their death grip over your phone, and you shivered as you finally let it go.

“You’re frozen” he deplored, clear anger on your behalf corroding his voice as he shook himself out of his coat to put it on your shoulders. “I’m going to take your towel away now, okay? It’s alright, it’s alright” he reassured when you whined feebly in distress. “You can’t stay in that wet thing, and it’s nothing I wouldn’t have seen soon anyway. That’s it…slowly…” he encouraged as he pulled the fabric away, closing the garment tighter around you as soon as it was completely off. “There, all done” he praised, rubbing the thick leather all over you to warm you up.

“I-I’m s-sorry, you w-were right” you sniffled against his skin a few minutes later, sobs threatening to start anew.

“Shhh. Don’t worry about that now.  You learned your lesson, right? You won’t put up a fuss against what I judge is best again?” crooned Jehan, as if he was gently reprimanding a small child.

You shook your head frantically. You’d never doubt his opinion on those matters again just because of your stupid, foolish, ungrateful pride. What if he hadn’t made it on time? What if—? God, you couldn’t stand thinking about it.

“There’s a good girl. Everything will be okay now. You’ll stay with me, alright? I’ll take care of you” he swore, giving your forehead a quick kiss, and you nestled yourself closer to his chest, not about to argue with anything he said anymore.

If you could have seen his face, you would have run, run as far as your legs could lead you and your arms could crawl. His eyes shone with a single emotion: _triumph_.


	4. Safety First

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the late posting and the late replies! Work is keeping me insanely busy until May. As always though, if you want to read more, this fic is already more advanced on my [Tumblr](http://themadpuppy85.tumblr.com/), and you can also check my [Twitter](https://twitter.com/themadpuppy85) if you want to know the progress in my writing. For now, please enjoy!

“You’re beautiful” Jehan murmured to your inert form as he gently put you into your bed. He’d have preferred to bathe you first, scrub the filth of the night away, but you really needed to sleep. Those jackasses he had hired didn’t know the difference between scaring a lady and driving her half mad, and he feared you’d develop a permanent trauma of taking your shower in an enclosed space.

It was a minor consequence, for sure, considering he wouldn’t _want_ you to lock the door when you washed yourself, but he was still chagrined. You were his pet; if it turned out that he had damaged you in his haste to corral you to your new cage, he wouldn’t forgive himself, nor the scum who did it. He was a responsible owner, after all; he took your well-being very seriously. 

“My precious kitten” he murmured to your ear, giving you a chaste kiss on your forehead before tucking you in. He loved the softness of your skin, the round shapes of your body; they reminded him of the dunes in Saudi Arabia, full of secrets and rewards for the prince willing to patiently dig their depths. And he was such a man, even if his capacity to endure seemed to lesser every day. One month ago, he would have never resorted to such cheap ploys; now he was considering much worse, if it meant possessing you faster. It was as if a pipe had burst within himself; for the first time in his life he wanted, _wanted_ with a passion that would only be sated once you broke.

 _I have to be careful_ , he reminded himself sternly as he sat down at your bedside. There were many ways he could finish bending your mind to his will; by force (but that was vile, and beneath him), for example, or brainwashing, or drugs (but he wanted a pet, not a doll.) Those would be fast methods; by tomorrow night, you could be moaning his name, blissfully shameless and desperate for his touch. It was tempting, but he knew better; the best time for harvest was when a fruit was ripe, and you weren’t quite ready yet, no matter how delicious you looked. He’d make you _want_ this as much as he wanted it; make you submit of your own accord, put your own neck in the collar he’d offer. You’d feel proud and liberated to be his pet, and your love would be that much more meaningful and _real_.

 _All things come to those who wait_ , said the old adage. For now, he was happy to watch you sleep until your eyes opened again.

***

“Jehan?” you murmured when you woke up, your lids still heavy with sleep. He couldn’t be far; you had felt his reassuring presence besides you all night long, and the scent of his cologne was still cocooning you in a cloud of safety.

“I’m here, my pet” came the beloved voice from above you, and you mewled in delight upon sensing his fingers massage your scalp. It was slow and unhurried, blurring the frontier between wakefulness and sleep a little longer, and you longed to stay there. “Are you hungry? I’ll go get some breakfast” he said at last, caressing your cheek, and you fluttered your lashes open, catching his wrist to keep him from leaving.  

“I don’t want to be alone” you admitted anxiously, before blushing when you heard the words. That sounded like an indecent proposal, but you _truly_ didn’t want to be left alone, even if it meant stomach pangs for the rest of the day.

“I’m just going to the door. I’ll talk all the way so you can know where I am” promised Jehan, bending to give a quick kiss on your hands before gently prying his wrist loose. “You have to eat so you can recover properly from yesterday’s ordeal, hmm?” he pointed, and you nodded reluctantly. He was right, and you didn’t want to appear childish, even if your heart quivered with anxiety the moment he was out of sight.

“You’re still exhausted, so I don’t want you to exert yourself today” came his voice with the slight echo of his shoes, a frank _tap tap tap_ that was specific to empty paved hallways. “Your belongings from your old flat were picked up and delivered during the night, so why don’t you just settle in and familiarize yourself with the surroundings?”

Even as he said it, you were already taking them in.  You were in a sumptuous bed, in a room so rich of your aesthetic that it seemed designed by your own hand, down to a vase of fresh purple roses on the vanity. _More accurately_ , you realized with a prick of unease as you noticed more details, _it looks just like the dream room I described to Jehan when I wanted to impress him with my good decorating taste._ You could still remember the moment you had discussed television and the modern art trends, how you had deplored that home make-over shows never seemed to cater to your tastes, and what _you_ would do instead if you had the budget. The thought the current room could be so faithfully on purpose was flattering, but also a tad disturbing.

“…Maybe rearrange them to your leisure? I’m not sure I got all the details right. You’ll have to let me know if you need to buy something, it won’t be a problem” Jehan continued, confirming your suspicions. There was a brief silence followed by the hollow sound of a door being pushed close, then his voice grew nearer again. “Of course, if you’d prefer distracting yourself with work, I can have my assistant come and set your office up, but I’d really prefer if you took it easy today” he advised, and you scrunched your nose in disbelief. Setting your office where? _Inside_ the apartment?

“Here it is” he announced while reappearing at the entrance, striding in with a plate of mouth-watering pancakes that temporarily distracted you from your observations. “Not handmade, I’m afraid, but the chef assures me they’re delicious” he said while reclaiming his place in the chair by your bedside and cutting himself a small piece to sample. “ _Mm-mm_ , yes, it’s good. Open your mouth? I’ll feed you” he proposed, bringing the fork to your mouth.

“Jehan, I can do it myself” you protested, trying to take the utensil from his fingers as you rose to sit against the pillows. He was being considerate, but there was also something deeply _infantilizing_ in the way he suggested that you’d gob all he’d give like a gaping fish that embarrassed you. 

“Nonsense. Aren’t you still hurting from yesterday? Let me do that for you” he insisted, and you didn’t dare argue further. He was looking at you so intensely that it was making you squirm, and you didn’t want to upset him for so little when you _were_ still feeling sore.

“There we go. Good girl” he praised as you swallowed the last bite, before peering closer in concern. “You look a bit stressed. Is something not to your liking?”

“No, no, everything is wonderful, but…Jehan, what _is_ this place?” you asked at last, unable to tolerate the saccharine atmosphere any longer. He was being absurdly nice, but something was _off_ , and you wouldn’t be able to relax until you figured it out.

“Your new home, of course. Bathroom is on the left, closet on the right, and you’ll find a kitchen, a study and a living room down the hallway leading to the door. If you need anything or want to go outside, just ring the bell and ask Yvan. He’ll provide everything you desire and take you out wherever you please.”

“I’m not sure I understand” you murmured, suddenly nauseated. “Why do I need someone with me to go out? Why can’t I just leave on my own?”

“Why would you want to? You can have everything you wish delivered here” Jehan countered, frowning as if you just asked something truly idiotic. “Should I also remind you it’s not safe outside? Especially if people learned that you are living with me now, given my line of work.” 

“I guess, but… Jehan, you can’t just sequestrate me here!” you blurted out. He was basically saying you’d never have privacy outside those walls again! This was crazy!

“Sequestrate?..” he repeated with distaste, putting the plate down on the bed with more force then necessary, and you immediately regretted speaking up. “Now that’s a big word to throw around. As I said, you’re free to go and call whoever you please, including the police” he reiterated, pointing to your cellphone on the bedtable. “I wouldn’t suggest telling them I’m holding you _prisoner_ , though. You wouldn’t be very credible when you just enthusiastically handed your letter of resignation and lauded the brilliant career awaiting you here, right? Not to mention all those gifts you accepted. That left quite a paper trail of your eagerness to accept my generosity.” By this point, his expression had hardened into a scowl, and your heartbeat was pounding all the way to your head as he continued his taunting rant. “I’m not sure what you imply, but I don’t think it’s wrong of me to take appropriates measures about your safety. The only thing I truly ask is that you don’t try to leave. That would…vex me” he finished darkly.

“Jehan, that’s not what I meant! I wouldn’t leave! B-but this is too much!” you stammered, wishing someone would pinch you and wake you up. This couldn’t be happening. Jehan should have been holding you in his arms and declaring his love instead of creeping you out.

“ _Too much?”_ he spat, then sighed deeply. “This is disappointing. I thought we had established you wouldn’t rebel against what I judge is best anymore? It seems you need a reminder already” he concluded, and you cowered as he rose and towered above you.

“Please, Jehan, I’m just…confused” you pleaded, tears pearling on your eyelashes as you fought the urge to sob. Who _was_ this controlling freak? That wasn’t the commanding but still genteel Jehan you knew, and you had no clue how to deal with him. What was he going to do? _Hit_ you?

“Are you afraid, my pet? Don’t be” Jehan whispered, and you cringed as his hand descended to caress your cheek again. His touch held none of its previous warmth; instead it was cold, as cold and reptilian as his unblinking stare. “I said I would take care of you, didn’t I? I won’t punish you more than you deserve. When you’ll have changed your mind about questioning me, text me” he instructed, turning around to leave.

“Wait, Jehan, don’t leave me alone, _please!_ ” you begged, but he shook his head.

“Not good enough. You know what I want to hear. I’ll be waiting” he reminded, then disappeared without another word, deaf to your anguished cries.

***

 _Hysteria_ couldn’t quite cover your initial reaction. You curled into a foetal position on the bed, and cried until your eyes hurt. This was a nightmare, a horrible nightmare where Jehan had been replaced by his evil alter ego. Unless he had always been this way? Had you been so blinded by your desire that you had ignored all the signs? Suddenly, you remembered Maria’s claims that he was a psycho in disguise, and regretted not listening to her.  

 _Maria. I have to call her right now_ , you reflected hopefully, reaching for your phone. It’d be okay. She’d believe you. In a few seconds, she’d pick up—

“ _The number you tried to reach is not available_ ” said the automatic lady, and you screamed in frustration. Had she forgotten to pay her bill again? The timing couldn’t be worse. Shaking your head, you composed your mother’s number instead, and fell on the very same message.

“God _please!_ ” you wailed. Where the hell did she go this time that she was out of range? Biting your lip to hold in your fright, you went for your messenger applications. If you couldn’t reach anyone, you would at least write them an email or leave a note—

 _No connection_ , displayed your phone, and you gave up. If Jehan had any Wi-Fi, he hadn’t judged pertinent to share it with you. You’d have to see if the apartment featured any desktop computer and take it from there.

“Just breathe, _breathe_ ” you ordered yourself, pulling the first pair of jeans and sweater you could find in the closet. After crying so much, being pro-active made you feel better, and you ventured into each lavish room with a steadier step. Unsurprisingly, there was no computer, but the windows were a lot more worrisome; upon closer inspection, they were not glass, but very thin flat screens displaying the _illusion_ of the outside. Other than consulting the weather channel on the TV, it was impossible to tell the climate or guess on which floor you were. There was no way out besides the door at the end of the hallway, and behind the door was…Y-something? Yvan? Whatever Jehan said his name was.

 _Well, he did say to ask him for anything_ , you reasoned as you gathered your courage. Splashing some water in your face, you quickly arranged yourself into something more presentable before approaching it. As Jehan as announced, it had a bell, but _inside_ ; it was if you had to ring to enter the outside world instead of exiting your apartment, which reinforced your feeling of wrongness. Safety or not, Jehan was exaggerating.

 _Ding ding_ , went the bell as you gingerly pushed it, and you held your breath, not quite sure what type of big lug was going to greet you. Yvan sounded like Ivan the Terrible, the fearsome Russian conqueror—

“Milady? Did you ask for me?” a young man chirped excitedly while pulling the door wide open. He had cheaply dyed blond hair held messily in place with some clips, giving him the look of a student rather than a bodyguard, and you relaxed in relief. He looked _harmless_.

“I did, I guess?” you replied, bravely attempting to return his smile. Behind him, there was nothing but another hallway, with what looked like a second door and an elevator. _Definitely not on the first floor then_ , you noted. “I was wondering if I could access a computer somewhere? There doesn’t seem to be Wi-Fi in my apartment.”

“I know, I’m sorry. Since the bomb incident, the Boss is very careful to avoid hacking” he replied with such desolation that it gave you no doubt about his sincerity, but also made you do a double take. A _bomb?_ You knew Jehan was living in a violent world, but you hadn’t thought it was _this_ bad. Suddenly, you felt guilty about your earlier outburst. “But I have one in my apartment, if you need me to check something?”

“Thank you, but never mind” you declined after brief consideration. It’d be great to let people know you were okay, but the message wasn’t so urgent anymore as to warrant anything that could trigger Jehan should he learn about it. “Can you just come and keep me company then? I don’t want to be alone” you implored.

“I’m afraid I can’t, Milady” apologized Yvan while rubbing his head in discomfort. “The Boss wouldn’t like it, you see” he explained, and you nodded in understanding, having half expected it. “But anything that doesn’t endanger your safety or threaten your relationship with the Boss, I shall provide!” he proclaimed proudly, and you zeroed on his words. Finally, someone could possibly give you a clear answer about that!

“What did he say I was?” you asked as nonchalantly as you could, trying to convince yourself the answer was inconsequential.

“You’re his princess, Milady! His treasure, his precious one!” he gushed, and you melted inside. “Can I just say how happy I am that he finally found you, Milady? We never thought he would ever care for anyone, not with the way he disdained all women before…but now it’s like a miracle. He’s so excited to spoil you! Oh, do you have an order already? Maybe some clothes or jewels you’d like?”

“No…to be honest…this is so…I don’t even know…” you started to sniffle. Jehan _hated_ women before? And now he was _excited_ and told his staff you were his _treasure?_ This was wonderful, but why couldn’t he just say so to your face and save you from all this pointless anguish? You wouldn’t have flipped out like that if you had known!

“…it must be intense, isn’t it? The Boss means well, but he’s a difficult man to understand” offered Yvan with an empathic smile and a handkerchief, and you snorted in agreement. That had to be the understatement of the century. “I don’t know what the situation is exactly but…” Yvan trailed off, scratching his chin as if to help him think, “…it seems to me the problem is that you’re thinking too hard. You like the Boss, don’t you?”

“Yes” you admitted shyly as you blew your nose. It was definitely masochistic of you given how badly he had frightened you earlier, but you did.  

“And the Boss adores you! So why don’t you see it as winning the lottery? And not just a few thousand dollars! Hundred of millions!” he elaborated excitedly.

You nodded again, a feeling of peace dawning over you. Yvan was off the mark, but it wasn’t a bad metaphor for it. If you had won an all-expenses-paid trip, or that type of thing, you’d just be enjoying the opportunity instead of fretting about the fine print, which was exactly the mindset that seemed to drive Jehan mad earlier.

“Thanks, Yvan, that’s good advice” you murmured, and he beamed under the praise. “What would _you_ do if you won the lottery?” you asked curiously, eager to change the topic.

“I’d order the expansion pack for ROFL!!!” he exclaimed, and you recognized the popular online game. “There’s a super special edition only on sale today, and oh man, I want it, I want it so bad, but it’s so expensive—”

“Well, why don’t you buy it then?” you said impulsively. “Then you can show it to me.”

“Wow! Can I really do that, Milady??” Yvan verified, almost drooling.

“Sure, why not?” you smiled in earnest, enjoying the way he exploded in joy. Jehan hadn’t put restrictions about what you could request, and you felt happy to see Yvan so happy. It was like spoiling a puppy, chasing the darkness of your thoughts away.

 _I wonder if that’s how Jehan feels when he looks at me?_ you reflected in desolation. Wanting to please as a form of therapeutic reprieve from your own mind? If it was the case, given everything you just learned, no wonder he had blown a gasket when his offerings had made you frantic instead. Maybe you ought to reconsider the whole situation from that angle.

***

 _I’m very sorry about my behavior earlier. I hadn’t realized the extent of the danger. I won’t question you anymore,_ you typed on your phone after thanking Yvan and closing the door, pressing _send_ before you could change your mind. Not that you’d blindly accept everything he proposed as gospel, but…you’d learn to ask more questions before assuming the worse. Now that you could replay the morning’s events with a better understanding of the situation, Jehan just appeared extremely sensitive on the topic of your well-being rather than a full throttle psycho; as he said himself, he wasn’t robbing you of your freedom, just putting some restrictions on it in the interest of your safety. To be sure, you didn’t want to be kidnapped on your way to work by some rival gang and blown up to smithereens just because you didn’t want a cute cinnamon roll like Yvan following you around. That’d be stupid.

 _Ding_ , went your phone in reply like so many nights before, and your heart thundered in your chest as you took the call, eager for a reconciliation.

“Hi, Jehan—” you started sweetly, but got drowned out.

“You won’t?” simply said his voice at the end of the line, making you cringe with its flatness. He was still angry.

“I won’t. I promise. You know better than I do about safety matters” you said sincerely. You wished he would have explained the situation better, but you guessed he hadn’t wanted you to worry so soon after you got attacked.

“I’m glad you realized so. What else do you have to say to me?” he pressed, and your mind was momentarily blank. Had he mentioned anything else?

“…Forgive me for doubting you?” you tried. That was bit extreme, considering your reaction was still understandable, but Jehan seemed to have a soft spot for apologies, and you were more concerned about his mood than your pride.

“Good girl. How can I say no when you ask so cutely?” he praised in that smooth monotone you loved so much, making you blush in delight. “I feel like spoiling you even more now. Is there anything you want?” he inquired, and you seized the chance.

“…Jehan, you do… _love_ me, right?” you risked, for once not as much nervous as hopeful.

“ _Yes_ ” came the immediate reply, filling you your veins with the purest drug. “I knew you were the one for me the moment I saw your eyes. I thought I made that obvious” he confessed further in a husky voice, and you didn’t need to hear more.

“Well, you didn’t. Can you say it clearly so I’ll never doubt it? _Please_ ” you added for effect, and was rewarded by his low chuckle.

“My greedy kitty, what about I tell you in person? I’ll come back now, just as I promised. Why don’t you put the dress I gave you and wait for me?” he suggested, making you almost faint when he added, “I’ll show you just how much I mean it.”


	5. Devil and his due

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As another creepy psycho once said, here…we…go! NSFW! It’s smut time, my lovelies, enjoy, and don't forget you can follow me on [Tumblr](http://themadpuppy85.tumblr.com) or [Twitter](https://twitter.com/themadpuppy85) to know my writing progress!

“Janeeeeet! I’m baaaaaaack!” bellowed Zion upon entering her office, half smashing the door in the wall in his exuberance. “Did you miss me?”

“Must you be so loud?” replied Janet tiredly, not even lifting her eyes from her work. It seemed that if she did so much as blink, three more papers would appear in its place.

“Aww, Janet, come on. Aren’t you glad I’m safe? I know you were looking forward to my return” he added with a wink, casually leaning on her desk.

“I’m too busy to care” she admitted, scanning the document for errors, and _goddamn it_ there was a typo. How come the spell check program missed it? She’d have to tell Simon about this. No matter what he said, working as Mr. Quinn’s hacker entailed more than stealing people’s secrets and playing Candy Push in the downtime. “Now if all you wanted was to burden me, please leave.”

“You wound me, Janet. And here I thought there was a heart beating for me under those perfect breasts of yours” Zion complained dramatically, smacking his chest for effect.

“I’d be grateful if you could stop your pointless flirting and let me work. I’m not one of your slutty partners paid to suck your dick” spat Janet disdainfully, regretting her slip immediately. Zion was bound to pick on it, and sure enough, he didn’t miss a beat.

“Are you jealous, babe? No need. I’ll let you play with this handsome body of mine anytime you feel frisky” he said huskily, bending so his voice could blow directly in her ear. “I’ll make you scream my name all night long.”

“No thanks” refused Janet as calmly as she could, turning to her cabinet so he wouldn’t see her blush. If Zion ever learned she collected his porno movies, especially the decadent _Jalapeno Nights_ , she was dead, buried and rotten. “Anyway, if you’re here for Mr. Quinn, he’s busy with his new pet, I’m afraid.”

“Ohhhh then I guess I totally understand—” started Zion with fake empathy, before exploding. “Is this a joke?! I just dragged my ass for _a month_ in the dregs of the Chinese underworld negotiating new trade routes and you’re telling me his Highness won’t see me because he bought himself a kitty?!”

“A girl, actually.”

“What does he need a pet for anyway? He’s a freaking robot! He’s— ** _what?!_** ” spluttered Zion upon registering her words. His shocked expression was a testament to his fundamentally decent persona, despite his various professions. “Tell me you’re kidding right now, because that’s _not_ funny.”

“Trust me, I wish I were” muttered Janet, giving up on doing any work for now. Putting her chin on her clasped hands, she began summing up the situation. “Some barista from Sector H. Covered her in gifts, had her followed, and now built her a golden cage in the B building. I assume by now” she checked her watch and fretted internally about the time (eight thirty, for pity’s sake, and she needed to send those documents by nine) “he’s coaxing her into debasing herself for his pleasure. Any questions?”

“Yes. How do we get her out of there? This is insane.” If Jehan had been a candid satyr like his father, lecherous but essentially harmless, it would have been a different story; but no girl in her right mind would choose him as a sugar daddy, not even for all the riches of the world. The poor lass was being tricked to her doom.

“I thought so too, and then I realized I liked being alive. So should you” she pointed, then frowned upon noticing the stormy look on his face. “Don’t even _think_ about it. He chose Yvan to keep guard around the clock. You’ll never get to her.”

“ _He chose Yvan_..?” he repeated, half choking on the words. “After what happened to Erika? Jesus _fucking_ Christ! I knew he was a sadist, but this is just _sick!_ What the hell is _wrong_ with him!” he shouted, thoroughly disgusted.

“Love? Or destiny, as he calls it” she suggested with a grimace. That sounded as bad as saying sharks sprouted wings and frolicked with unicorns.

“ _That’s a complete load of horseshit!_ In a city this corrupted, nothing happens without someone paying for it! Someone messed with his mind!” Zion insisted. “Maybe a drug in his drink, or an odopium dart like those Sebastian are developing—”

“If only. I’m afraid this time the devil is at work, and he’ll take this girl’s soul as payment” Janet said darkly while shaking her head. It couldn’t be Mr. Quinn’s soul. He had none.

***

“Do you like the food?” asked Jehan from over the table. His voice was as sweet as the wine he was pouring in your glass.

“I do! It’s delicious” you praised, never having tasted something quite like it. The meat was succulent and exquisite, so tender that it was falling off the bone and melting like butter in your mouth, and was probably worth its weight in gold. “What is it?”

“ _Abbachio alla romana_ ” Jehan answered, the words rolling off his tongue like a magical incantation. “Cooked with a suckling lamb no older than six weeks. I thought it would be perfectly suited for you” he continued, his tone such a caress that your breath hitched in your throat. “It’s an Italian delicacy served since Antiquity…”

You tried hard to stay focused as Jehan extolled the virtues of ancient roman cuisine, but his voice was so bewitching it kept sending shivers down your spine. The whole atmosphere was ethereal, like the diner scene in Coppola’s _Dracula_. You were Mina, slowly pulled into a trance while her prince kept reminiscing about times long past and pouring her glass after glass of a foreign drink where malicious fairies lived. _But you are safe with me_ , had said Dracula, looking at his angel with an adoration able to change tears into diamonds; _safe and loved_ …

“…decide what you’d like to do?” Jehan asked, bringing you back to the present.

“Well, since you said I didn’t have to start working right away, I thought… Maybe I’d just take a few days to settle in, as you said? Decorate a bit more. Or just watch movies? I haven’t done a marathon of The Lord of the Rings in _ages_ ” you giggled, bringing your hand to your mouth sheepishly. The drink was making you tipsy.

“You are adorable” Jehan complimented, covering you with such a smouldering gaze that your skin burned up in return. It was like he was undressing you with his eyes; it felt sinful just to allow him to look at you so. “I think that it’s an excellent idea. In fact, you should take a few weeks off. Why not indulge yourself a bit? There are some spa treatments I’m sure you’d enjoy…”

He started reviewing luxurious beauty rituals, each one sounding more decadent and expensive than the other, but your thoughts wandered again. _I’ll show you just how much I mean it_ , Jehan had said earlier; just what did he intend to do? Kiss you, or more…? The question had simmered deep in your core all night, making your insides quiver with an anticipation that was becoming hard to conceal. You wanted his lips so much that you were aching; your whole mind was poised for this blissful moment when he would give them to you at last—

“…my love?” Jehan said perplexedly, and you blushed beet red, both from shyness at the endearment and shame at being caught. You had no idea what he had just asked.  

“I…” you fumbled, desperate to come up with a coherent answer. “Whatever you think is best, Jehan” you risked, praying it would fool him. He hated lies, but you’d roast like a little piggy in hell before admitting you had been too distracted by your fantasies to pay him attention.

“That’s a good answer” he chuckled fondly, before his eyes darkened to two obsidians. “But I think you’re right. That’s enough chit-chat for tonight. Come to me now” he commanded, his voice as soft and insidious as a snake’s.

Your body reacted instantly, stiffening and jerking upwards like a puppet, and you walked the short distance separating you from him with your heart thundering in your head. You were a mouse venturing in a tiger’s den, hypnotized by his unblinking stare; it was reeling you in, as surely as a fishing hook brings the carp back to the surface.

“Sit” ordered Jehan once you reached him, tapping his thigh to indicate his lap, and you trembled from head to toe. It wouldn’t be like yesterday, when it meant refuge and protection. The moment your butt would touch his knees, you’d be agreeing to a whole lot more of him touching you; it was a point of no-return. As if sensing your hesitation, Jehan held out his hand graciously.

“Don’t be afraid. I’ll take care of you” he promised, his voice so gentle and alluring that you had no choice but to believe him. Putting your hand in his grasp, you let him guide you the way he wanted, legs across from his like a bride about to be carried away.

“I’ll make this very simple. I want you like I’ve never wanted anyone else” he professed once you were comfortable, his baritone now so deep and seductive that it sent a jolt of desire below your navel, “and I want you to want me just as much. From now on you won’t say _no_ to me ever again, you’ll only say ‘Yes, Jehan’. Do you understand, my pet?”

“Y-yes, Jehan” you stuttered, bewildered but enthralled. You were breathless, as helpless as a fly trapped in a spider’s web, but the warmth pooling in your stomach was anything but fear. His will to claim you was radiating off him, his eyes holding you in place more efficiently than chains, and you thought you might cry if he didn’t kiss you soon.

“Good girl” Jehan praised, caressing your cheek down to your chin, before tilting it up with a single finger. “Now stop thinking and focus on your senses.”

His lips descended on yours like a predator on its prey, forcing them open to ram his tongue deep inside you, and you moaned in his mouth, a long cry of need and lust as irrepressible, hot and primal as a volcano erupting its magma. He tasted like wine and the blood from the lamb, but also of something that reminded you of very dark chocolate, something bitter that should have been sweet, and you threw your arms around his neck, eager for more. Your lips would look like bruised petals in the morning, but you didn’t care; all that mattered was to encourage him, to open your mouth wider and feel more of him. His strokes were powerful but controlled, at the very frontier where might meets tenderness, hammering home his will for you to submit, and you moaned again as he kept plowing your mouth, furrowing and burrowing with relentless purpose.

“Turn around” he groaned against your lips, tearing himself away when the need to breathe caught up with both of you; he was panting just as you were, and the shallow sound aroused your further. “I can’t wait any more. I want to see you come.”

“W-wait, Jehan..! It’s t-too s-soon!!” you protested as he forcibly rearranged you so that he was fully behind you, trapping your elbows beneath his arms as his hands slid upwards to cup your breasts in his palms. The fabric of your dress was ludicrously thin, offering no protection whatsoever against his fondling; there was only the lace of your bra, and the texture was rubbing against your nipples in a maddening way.

“It’s not too soon” replied Jehan to your ear, his voice now gritty with desire as he nibbled and sucked on its lobe, “and that was the wrong answer, my pet. What are you supposed to say?” he asked, pinching your nipples hard in warning.

“ _Ahhh!.._ ” you moaned helplessly, “ _ahh!_ Yes, Jehan! I’m sorry!” you added as he pinched them harder and bit your neck to punish you for the delay. It hurt, but not in a bad way; the pain was rich with its own brand of pleasure, acute and searing.

“Good girl” Jehan praised, lapping the wound with devotion. “Stop resisting. I’m the only man who’ll ever touch you now. The only one—” he stressed, squeezing your breasts for emphasis, “—who’ll ever see this sweet expression on your face, or hear your cries as you beg for more” he swore, his words sliding down your canal like a poisonous aphrodisiac. “Now open your legs.”

“Nn-n!..” you whined. He was asking so much—so much, and so soon!  

“ _Obey me, my pet_ ” he growled in a guttural voice, shocking you by slapping your ass hard. You had expected him to be intense, but not that forceful; it sent a thrill of frightened desire in your core. “ _Now_.”

“Yes…Jehan…! Forgive me! I won’t…do it…again!” you panted, pushing each word out of your mouth with difficulty as you fought your instinct to resist and do as you were told. Jehan was your ideal man, and he said he loved you, didn’t he? Where would be the harm to give in to his demands, to abandon yourself to the pleasure and make him as happy as he made you? The thought was seeping in your mind like a fog, mixing with the haze of the wine as his right hand slowly slid downwards. You could have shut your thighs to trap his wrist in a vice and end this madness, but you were paralyzed, subjugated by his promises of eternal devotion. You were tumbling down the rabbit’s hole, and all you could do was wait and watch in languid fascination as his hand nestled itself cozily between them and started bunching the fabric of your skirt to access your panties. Just a few seconds more…

“ _Ahhh!_ Jehan!” you gasped in delight as his fingers finally found the lacy garment and began caressing your slit through it, so close and yet so far. It was slow and unhurried, like he was caressing a cat’s head instead, and you choked a sob of frustration.

“You’re burning, my pet” Jehan taunted smugly; you could feel his smile against your ear. “Is something the matter? Do you want more of my love, maybe?” he suggested and you nodded, unable to voice your desire. You felt like a slut to want it, to have Jehan see you want it, and yet you couldn’t deny it anymore; you wanted him to touch you. You wanted to come under his hand.

“Tell me, my pet” Jehan repeated, like an evil genie asking for your wishes. Your will was crumbling, your strength waning like ice under the sun; with a tremor that could have been your signature at the bottom of the devil’s contract for your soul, you felt your muscles slack in surrender and the answer fuses out of you like a geyser.

“Yes, Je— _ahhh_ , Jehan! _Jehan!_ ” you moaned in bliss as he pushed your panties aside and sunk his middle finger between your folds to resume its lazy stroking. “ _Yes!! Yesss!!_ ” you cried, opening your legs as wide as you could to give him more access.

“That’s more like it. Good girl” Jehan praised in your ear, rewarding you by bringing two more fingers to tease your entrance. The vision of his hand covering your patch was almost more erotic than the feel of it; it was so possessive, as if he was claiming your pussy for his exclusive use. “Look at you, you’re so wet already. But I want more. I want you dripping all over my pants. Can you do that for me?”

“ _Ahhh_ … _ahhhh_ …Yes Jehan! _Please!_ ” you begged, almost wailing. The hand on your left breast was relentlessly stimulating its nipple, digging, pinching, rubbing, twirling the stiffened peak over and over while his thumb buried itself with the rest of his fingers to trace vigorous small circles on your clit; it was an endless cycle of ecstatic torture, and you were about to combust.

“Shhh, it’s alright, it’s coming. Let’s get you out of that cumbersome outfit first, hmm?” he asked, almost conversationally, and you nodded, completely lost. Why resist? He had already seen everything anyway, and this just felt so _good_ , so _right_ that it couldn’t have been anything else but your destiny. Like in a dream, you felt him unzip your dress and guide your arms through the sleeves to slide it down your body, then his fingers on your shoulders and hips as he repeated the same process with your underwear.

“There we go” he purred as the last piece hit the floor. The cool air hit your nipples and sex instantly, and you shivered as you felt Jehan’s gaze roam all over you in hunger. You’d have felt ashamed with any other man, but he was dominating you so thoroughly that it took the sting of it away; it just felt arousing to be so completely exposed to him, manipulated like a doll and cared for like a baby.

“Jehan, _please!_ ” you begged when he gave no sign to continue. He had promised to take care of it, and you were _dying_ of need—

“So pretty. So needy. So perfect” he complimented, making you moan in happiness. “Here” he instructed, taking your wrists to guide your fingers into your mouth, “suck them well. And now…” he continued, guiding one hand on your left breast, and the other over your patch, “go on, my pet” he encouraged, his tone cajoling but inflexible. His hands slid under your thighs, pushing them wide open, and positioning his own fingers at your entrance like greedy maggots waiting to be fed. “Show me what a lewd kitty you can be” he whispered.

You looked at him, your eyes wide and confused, and yet aroused beyond reason. He couldn’t mean… But Jehan just smiled placidly, patiently, and you burned with the need to please him. He wouldn’t be disappointed with you twice today.

“Ah _…ahh!_ Yes…Jehan! _Yes!_ ” you cried, your tongue no longer your own. It was like you didn’t know what to say anymore but _yes, Jehan_ , and you shakily started playing with yourself, deeply aware of Jehan watching you masturbating to oblivion. Every time your hips bucked, his fingers filled you a bit more, and it wasn’t long before your head lolled back on his shoulder and you started undulating in earnest. Let him see how gracelessly you grabbed your breast, how frantically you rubbed your clit and dripped your juices all over him; like the first time you saw him, your mind’s eye was overridden with the vision of you submissively offering yourself to him, screaming your joy at servicing him any way he wanted, and it spurred you on in a frenzy. _Belonging to him…no shame…only pleasure…_

“I knew it” he growled as if he had read your thoughts, a crazy glint in the eyes as his right hand left your core to force you to look at him. “You’re mine. You belong to me” he rasped, then held your stomach as he pressed himself closer. His cock molded itself in your ass, hard and hot despite the barrier of his pants, letting you know how strongly you affected him despite his controlled behavior.

“Say you want me to be your master” Jehan instructed to your ear, his voice husky and imperious. His lips traveled down your neck to rain kisses over it, each one like a mini electroshock on your skin, and you didn’t hesitate.

“ _Yes, Jehan!”_ you moaned immediately in return. It was coming so easily now, so mind-numbingly easily…

“Tell me” Jehan insisted as he returned his hand to its previous place and started pumping you in earnest, faster than your body could keep up, and filling the air with the moist sound of your arousal.

“I want…you…to be my…master…! _Ahhhhh! Yess! Yesss_!! Jehan, _I love you!_ ” you chanted in delight, the orgasm unfurling to the tips of your being like tidal waves crashing on the shore as soon as the word left your lips. Your vision turned white, luminous and radiant, your hearing muffled by the woolly cocoon of its aftermath, and it took you some time to realize Jehan was covering your mouth with his own, swallowing your moan as if it was water pouring straight from heaven.

“Beautiful” Jehan praised once your world had stopped spinning, making you blush crimson. It was embarrassing, but there was also a deep feeling of contentment at seeing Jehan so proud of you, both alien and wonderful. “That was beautiful, my pet. Let’s see if you can do better tomorrow.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *turns around* Is everyone okay? Does anyone need a fan? XD Gahhhhhhh seriously every time I write one of those chapters I’m just like ahsgajkkll by the end and thinking of how lucky I am that you all share the kink with me and how eager I am to share the smut with you XD Comment, like, your love is my RedBull and keep me going as far as sin can lead us <3


	6. Matchstick dreams

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Abusive NSFW alert! While it’s still in the early phase, starting this chapter, the heroine starts to internalize Jehan’s vision of her as his pet, including physical punishment. If it’s not your cup of tea, I’ll have fluffier smut fics coming soon; if it is, stay right here and enjoy the deepening darkness, my lovelies, and as always don't forget you can follow me on [Tumblr](http://themadpuppy85.tumblr.com) or [Twitter](https://twitter.com/themadpuppy85) to know my writing progress! Enjoy!

Nothing could have truly described how precious Jehan made you feel after that first night of debauchery. If pressed, you would have said like a _queen_ , but while that word properly reflected his boundless adoration, it was too stiff and formal to encompass how much he relished seeing you submit to his care. A better way would have been to use a metaphor such as _stepping on a merry-go-round_ , where every light and glitter was shining for your exclusive delight and all the fairy tale horses were waiting for your clapping to continue carrying your coach into a never-ending ride. All you had to do was to was look inside Jehan’s eyes and forget that another world existed outside of his gaze; all he asked was that you let him hypnotize you into an ever-growing state of dependency.

Of course, he never requested such a thing out loud; it was in his pet names, in the way he expected you to disrobe and sit on his lap after each supper, in his patients requests that you call him _Master_ if you wanted to come by his hand; it was in his tender caresses on your face after each of your orgasms, the protective curl of his arms as he brought you to bed, the reverence of his every movement as he tenderly wiped the sweat away from your body; it was in the lullaby in his voice as he tucked you in and hushed you to sleep, the steadfast vigil he kept at your bedside and the phone calls he ignored in favor of watching you sleep; all of it just screamed his satisfaction in seeing you submit to his care like some kind of overgrown kitten.

And at your great embarrassment, you found out the notion wasn’t disturbing you as much as it should have; it was even kind of fun. Didn’t lots of men fantasize about their girlfriends acting like lusty cats, complete with furry clip-on ears and a tail?  As far as fetishes went, you were happy it was nothing more hardcore and to indulge his growing set of bedroom rules, even if some hurt you a bit.

“ _I’m sorry_ — _!_ ” you cried as Jehan pushed you to take support on the wall that night to poise your rear like a prized mare on display, positioning himself behind you to lift your skirt and have a good look at the large bruise blooming on top of your naked butt that twistedly branded you as _his_ like some kind of human cattle.

“Does it still hurt?” he inquired, concern lacing his every word as he brushed it with the tip of his thumb. His light squeezing as he spread your ass cheeks for a closer inspection kept pulling on your slit, exposing your entrance with an obscene sound of moist flesh being sucked apart and back, and you shivered with need.

“I _-_ I don’t mind, Je- _Master!_ Just don’t stop!” you moaned, burning in shame as you almost slipped again. It was all your fault, really; you had forgotten your role earlier and called him _Jehan_ instead of _Master_. While he answered to both names outside the bedroom, using it during foreplay was a big no-no, and he had definitely spanked that lesson home. If you complained that you were still hurting though, there was a chance he wouldn’t touch you tonight out of respect for your health, and you’d hate that enough to cry. On the other hand, if you swore you were fine and he caught you in the lie, he could punish you by refusing to touch you, which would be just as worse.

“You’re such a lewd kitty” Jehan announced, his voice brimming with adoration as he brought his crotch against your ass, and you writhed against his pants to better feel the shape of his hardened cock. You were so wet he would slip in like a piece of heaven; you would come in no time.

“ _Ahhh!_ _Master_ , please!” you begged as his hands left your rear to trail over your stomach, pushing your shirt up to gently pull the cups of your bra down and free your breasts to his teasing. The peaks were stiff already, calling to be pinched by his fingers like alligator clips and conduct a current of pleasure directly in your core, and you moaned again as he started to play with them. “ _Please!_ — ”

“Not yet, my pet” he blew in your ear, his left hand leaving your breast when you started to whine to push your hair away from your nape so he could pepper it with featherlight kisses. “Such a lonely neck” he deplored as he stroked your throat, fingers splaying like a giant spider over your Adam’s apple in a strangely intimate caress. “I’ll bring you a collar soon. You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” he proposed feverishly, his fingers circling your neck as if he was imagining you wearing it already while his other hand kept fondling your breast.

“Yes, Master! I would! _Ahhhhh!_ ” you cried as his arousal kept grinding into you. That was an easy concession; after all, a collar wouldn’t be worse than a costume. You turned your face towards him in a mute request for a kiss in reward for your obedience, but Jehan cruelly took a step back after a quick peck, sliding both his hands down on your hips in a possessive grip.

“Good girl. You know, I think your flower looks even more beautiful like this anyway” he complimented while brushing your bruise again, making your heart race with the praise. “Spread your legs more. I want to see” he requested, and you forced your feet apart, conscious that it would display your core completely bare and not caring anymore about how indecent that would make you look as long as it made Jehan happy. “Yes… All that pink right besides the purple, it’s very enticing” he flattered, making your heart swell with pride before slipping a finger inside you.

“ _Ahhh!_ Master! _Yesss! Yes!_ ” you moaned in delight, your cheeks flushing bright red as relief flooded you. You couldn’t help it; even with all the security, being physically separated from Jehan made you terribly anxious, and all day long you had rubbed your thighs together in anticipation of this, of your hole being filled with some part of him.

“My precious pet” he said, his voice so loving that your heart melted again. “You know, this wouldn’t have happened if you just called me _Master_ all the time” he suggested while he grabbed your chin to force you to look at him, and you couldn’t help to be both thrilled and disturbed by his complete seriousness. “Wouldn’t you like to do that?”

 _“Ahhhhh!_ Yes, Master! I would! _I would!_ ” you moaned as he added another finger, embracing the gentle humiliation as yet another way to please him. What would be the difference between _inside_ and _outside_ the bedroom, really, so long as it was in private? The truth was that between Jehan’s proud delight in your childlike obedience and his happiness in rewarding you with blissful pleasure when you did as you were told, you just were too hooked on his adoration to shy away from it, no matter if the price chipped more and more at your integrity.  

“You’re such a good pet” he praised, wriggling his fingers to coax more honey out of you, “and you’re dripping so much” he added smugly, grinning against your skin as he left a trail of light bites in the crook of your neck. “Is that what you were hoping for? Do you need to be played with?” he teased huskily once he reached your ear. His own breathing was growing erratic, turning you on even further.

“ _Yes_ , yes, Master! Yes! _Ahhhhh!_ Just, wait a second!— _”_ you moaned helplessly as he continued plowing your entrance, bringing his left hand to rub your engorged clit. You couldn’t do this standing up; your legs were shaking so bad you’d collapse soon. “I can’t— _AIII!!”_ you pleaded before his right hand left your core to firmly squeeze your abused buttock, making your flesh explode in pain.

“ _Jehan!_ Stop, stop! _It hurts!_ ” you begged frantically. Between the sweet pleasure he was stirring between your legs and the flashes of pain whitening your vision like lightning, contradictory signals if you should be moaning or crying were overwhelming you with their intensity and bringing tears to your eyes. “It really hurts! Stop! _Stop!_ ” you wailed, even as your panting grew.

“Shhh, it’s alright, you’ll learn to love it soon” Jehan reassured, showering your head with appeasing kisses. You didn’t know if he was referring to his kinky punishments, the idea of blurring the line between pain and pleasure until they were both the same or simply his deep baritone promising that he’d make you feel good, but you couldn’t help your insides to spasm at the thoughts. “And that was a double fault, my pet. You know that’s not the proper way to address me or to ask me a favor.”

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry!” you shouted, crying out as he pinched harder. “I’m sorry _Master! Please,_ I’ll be good! **_Please!_** ” you screamed in desperation.

“That’s a good girl” Jehan praised as he released his grip, and you collapsed in his waiting arms, whimpering and sobbing pathetically. “Shhh” Jehan appeased again as he brought you to the bed and carefully cradled you like a baby. “Was it so hard?” he asked tenderly while he caressed your hair, wiping your tears away with the tip of his thumb. They were now of shame rather than pain; how could you have forgotten so soon to call him _Master_ , when it was so important to him?

“It’s alright, my pet” he reassured as you guiltily shook your head _no._ “You just need a bit more training” he commented almost conversationally, his fingers resuming the lazy invasion of your defenseless pussy as if to prove his point. “See? You’re always so wet after calling me _Master_. You’re doing fine. We’re almost there” he praised, the loving words calming your inner turmoil as you opened your legs wider to enjoy more of his soothing. The unhurried caress was stimulating you just enough to send waves after waves of endorphin over you and wash the pain away, pulling you deeper into its cocoon of mindless bliss until the memory of it was nothing more than a pleasant buzz.

“That’s it…just relax…” he ordered as you stopped shaking, greedily drinking on your vulnerable, disheveled expression. He was looming over you domineeringly, and your heart missed a beat at how handsome he was. Despite being late, his hair and shirt were as immaculate as if he was freshly out of the shower, and his eyes were shining with a will that you were learning to bend to all too well.

“Here” he cooed, his left thumb travelled up over your chin to rest on your lips, offering his digit like a pacifier, and you hesitantly opened your mouth to start sucking on it. It was infantilizing, but you were craving it at the same time, to show your submission and prove that you regretted your slip, to taste the salt of his skin and know he wasn’t disappointed in you despite your error in a way mere words couldn’t.

“That’s it…just relax and depend on me, my pet…shhhh….” he murmured in encouragement, and you found yourself wanting to do just that. Your mouth opened a bit wider to take more of his finger, your tongue wrapped itself tighter around it, and you sucked more eagerly, letting your lids close as he continued to coo the sweetest poison to your weakened mind.

“You like that, don’t you? You’re such a good kitty. So warm…so wet…so welcoming…” he praised as your core started squeezing on his fingers, making you sigh in well-being. “Do you want me to see you come now?” he suggested, and you mewled, sucking the thumb in your mouth deeper in reply. Jehan would be so proud of you if you came at his command; everything would feel right in the world again.

“That’s a good answer. Just listen to my voice…” he instructed as he started rubbing your exposed nub and quickening the pace of his pumping, sending jolts of pleasure through every fiber of your being. “Look at you” he said adoringly as you vainly tried to fuck yourself on his fingers and started to fellate his thumb in earnest. “Can you believe you wanted to delay this by two weeks? You’re not interested in going outside at all now, do you? You just want me to make you come, right?”

“ _Yes Master!”_ you cried out mindlessly as your release coiled again deep inside you, waiting to unfurl to your every extremity as soon as he would give you permission. It felt so good to have two parts of Jehan inside you at the same time, so wonderfully _good,_ and you couldn’t concentrate on what he was saying at all. Your body was in full control of your needs, and what it wanted was the sweet rapture of orgasm, at any cost or price.

“Good. Now be a good pet and come all over me” he ordered, and your body obeyed instantly.

“ _Ahhhh! Master!!!”_ you moaned in ecstasy as all your muscles tightened, your orgasm shattering through you like an unstoppable train, filling your veins with a light, intoxicating feeling that made your mind glow with indescribable peace. You were in love; you were floating, somewhere far away from the tedium of life, that you never dreamed could exist…

“I’m here…Shhh…” he soothed as you kept trembling with the strength of your release, his eyes shining with delight as his fingers untangled themselves from your depths to caress your patch possessively. “I’m so happy of your progress, my pet. I love you so much” he whispered in adoration. “I wish I could stay with you all night, but unfortunately I’ll have to leave now to attend some urgent business matter. Will you be fine on your own?” he asked softly, his face ever patient as he waited for your reply.

You nodded while he delicately helped you sit and smoothed down your clothes, trying to hide your disappointment and failing miserably. Did that mean he would be away for long? A day? _More?_

“Don’t look so fretful” he chuckled upon seeing your needy expression, caressing your cheek fondly. “I should be back tomorrow. Send me pictures of what a naughty kitty you can be, alright? All I care is to see you enjoy yourself all the time” he swore, giving you quick kiss on the forehead before getting up and tucking you in, wishing you pleasant dreams.

You hugged yourself as his footsteps faded away, suddenly cold to the bone. Without Jehan, all the razzle and dazzle of the apartment faded away like the glow of a matchstick in a stormy night. All that was left was a big, empty cage, and the eerie silence of wrongness.  

***

“Is everything alright, Sir?” asked the small balding man later that night while waiting for further orders. In all his years of service, he had never seen Mr. Quinn smile, and he was trying his best not to show how much it unnerved him.

“It is, Tim, thank you” Jehan answered as he finished checking his phone, obviously in a good mood. You had sent him a picture of you licking some ice-cream along with a cute text, something that was sexy without being crude, and while that wasn’t quite what he had in mind it showed great potential. “My pet thinks I taste like dark chocolate. Isn’t she adorable?”

“Truly a charming specimen you found, Sir” commented Tim prudently. It was now a well-known fact that his boss was head over heels over a girl he considered his pet, and he was not about to contradict that notion. First, because he had witnessed how talented Jehan was at torture; second, and that resulted from the first, because he didn’t want to end up like the third man with them.  

“Yes, indeed. Let’s wrap this up, I’m eager to reward her” Jehan announced, his enthusiastic disposition dissolving to boredom and disdain as he turned towards their victim, hanging upside down like a bleeding pig and screaming in agony as gore and intestines kept slipping out of his sliced gut. “Are you ready to talk now, traitor, or shall I tell Tim to continue pulling?”

“Fuck you, you sick bastard, I already told you all I kn— _mmmfffaaa **arrrgh**!!!—_ ” was all the poor guy could muster before Jehan roughly shoved the glock in his mouth and fired, spraying his brain all over the brick wall.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hohoho! What was that at the end? The shadow of a plot??? Ohmygawd!!!! Suspense! But seriously, if anybody had any doubt about Jehan being a psycho, there’s your proof, and hold on to your chair because starting now the creep factor will keep rising faster. See you all soon!


	7. Everything is wrong

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was inspired by the Reset theories floating around and drafted before the release of the Valentine DLC and the possibilities about Seven, but I still think it fits quite nicely. Some Madoka themes too, so overall a very dark and plot heavy chapter—enjoy, and don't forget you can follow me on [Tumblr](http://themadpuppy85.tumblr.com) or [Twitter](https://twitter.com/themadpuppy85) to know my writing progress!

It was a little past midnight when the floor creaked under the weight of an intruder, and Simon didn’t even have to lift his nose from his glass of bourbon to know it was Yvan. For all the deadly persistence carefully masked behind his blonde locks, the younger man trudged through life since his cousin’s death with a hesitancy that coursed all the way down to his feet, like he was afraid of offending the hardwood by stepping on it. Besides – and perhaps more importantly – Yvan was one of the rare few who dared to disturb him when he was busy drowning his sorrow, and the implications as to _why_ that might be made him reach for his drink again.

“I thought you only liked Dr. Pepper?” Yvan asked as he took place on the stool besides him, not quite succeeding at hiding the worry and disappointment behind the casual inquiry, and Simon’s lips twitched ruefully. In his ongoing attempt to befriend him, Yvan never learned that it was his faithful nature that made him such an easy target for his pranks, and that was as good an invitation as any. He could have fun with this – pretend it wasn’t alcohol but a syrup against the effects of the odopium, for example, and extoll its virtue until Yvan downed several glasses of his own and woke up with a hangover that would make him puke his guts for three days. He’d pout and rage for a few weeks in retaliation, for sure—but then he’d be back, as always.

 _Always_. The word danced in front of his eyes like an imp, cruel and mocking, and he sobered up immediately, his desire to tease stomped to dust.

“I do. But it’s a bar, Yvan” he offered instead in guise of explanation, ignoring Yvan’s mute protest as he took another swing right out of the bottle. It wasn’t a _bar_ , not quite; it was an empty showcase of Jehan’s blood-stained wealth, just another pretty room built to nurture a specific vice into and try (and in his case, _fail_ ) to forget the calamity the world became outside. The liquid burned his throat and pooled in his stomach like hellfire, but his mind remained intact, his memories whole— _and always they’ll be_ , his demons taunted, sharp and pernicious, and he sighed in defeat.

“Why are you here?” he asked at last, not even pretending to be interested. The game always progressed the same way; some things had to be done for others to happen, and he didn’t particularly relish what was next. “It’s rare you quit your post. Won’t Jehan be angry?”

“I know, but…” Yvan replied uncertainly, gnawing at his lip in a telltale admission of guilt, but hurried into action by a greater one. His hand snatched a fruity drink off the shelf to give himself courage, and he soldiered on, despite his voice decreasing to a frightened whisper, “I…had myself relieved. I needed a break.”

“A break?” Simon repeated, without adding anything else. He didn’t need to: Yvan cracked at the first push, latching on his perch with a desperation that just begged for reassurance.

“Simon, everything is wrong” he started, words tripping over one another in their rush to get off his chest. “The lady, the Boss’ lady, I mean…before she _inquired_ about things, about why she couldn’t reach her friend or her mom, or when she’d start her job, or why the Boss did the things he did, and I…I…I followed the script, right? I said exactly what the Boss told me to say, and it worked, I think, I mean she seemed to get happier, right?”

“Wasn’t the friend’s name Maria?” Simon questioned instead, not really caring about Yvan’s distress. He would ramble to the end of his speech anyway, and the reminder of the girl’s friend tipped him for some reason. It had been some weeks since his stakeout, and the details were becoming murky around the edges.

“Yes, Maria, why?” Yvan replied breathlessly, but Simon just nodded pensively, making a mental note to hack Sebastian’s private log later but not commenting any further, and Yvan took it as his cue to continue.

“…but Simon, _now!_ Now she just spends her days waiting for the Boss to comes back with this hazy expression, like she’s a ghost or…or an empty _shell_ or a toy that needs to be wind-up…I don’t know how to describe it!” he admitted, his tone pitching to a squeak even as the words continued to roll off his tongue, “She just… stops _being_ until he’s back. I—I, I hear her cry through the walls all day long” he revealed, his tone now dangerously close to tears.

“Lots of women becoming emotionally dependant, Yvan. Hardly anything new” Simon reminded tiredly. Heck, only last month Zion had to deal with the crazy antics of one of his co-stars, and it was impossible that Yvan forgot that their solutions this time had boiled down to finding blackmail material or covering her in fish’s entrails to shock her into silence.

“I know, but!..” Yvan insisted, gripping his glass tighter. “It’s more than that! I knocked on her door once, asked her if everything was right, and, and…her _eyes_ , Simon! Her eyes were so…so _dead_ and _vacant_. I—I can’t stand it” he confessed, his outcry fading to a murmur, and Simon just closed his eyes in understanding. Yvan had stopped talking about the Boss’s pet at this point—he was thinking of Erika and the rumours she was depressed before the _incident_ happened, mistaking one girl for another under the weight of his regret. Once again, Simon couldn’t help a flicker of admiration for Jehan—everybody had known how cruel it was to assign Yvan to the task of bodyguard under the circumstances, but only _he_ had correctly predicted the efficiency of such callousness. Yvan was trapped by his own attachment; he would keep the girl inside the penthouse and fight his every instinct to free her, even if that meant watching her wither to utter nothingness. Even if it drove him mad.

And still then, Jehan would find use for him. Yvan was doomed.

Yvan _always_ was doomed.

“…and then the phone rang and it’s like suddenly she came to life, and I should be overjoyed she loves the boss so much, but!— ” Yvan was continuing besides him, his chatter reaching his ears once again, and he couldn’t pretend anymore.

“Yvan—”

“And there’s more! Sometimes, when they’re inside and they—I, I think, he’s hurting her. I mean I know some people are into that kind of thing and it’s none of my business but—it’s wrong, Simon! I can’t explain it but it’s wrong! _I feel like I’m going crazy!_ ” Yvan cried pathetically, and he slammed his fist on the countertop.

 ** _“Yvan_**.”

“Ye-yeah?” Yvan sniffed, surprised into stiffness by his outburst, blinking like a deer in headlights.

“Are you sure it’s only the Boss and his girl? Isn’t the _whole city_ wrong?” he questioned, feeling the futility of his efforts before he even spent his energy on them. Yvan wouldn’t get it—nobody ever did. Not even Sebastian, his own twin. He was alone.

“I don’t understand” Yvan replied predictably, and Simon swallowed a frustrated growl.

“This whole— _life_ is wrong. This whole _universe_ is wrong. Don’t you see it? It distorts wishes into nightmares. But we’re stuck in it.”

“Simon, you’re not making any sen—”

“ _Think about it!_ What did you most sincerely wish for in your life? What did everyone of us wish for? I’ll tell you what” he pressed, boring his amber orbs into Yvan’s violet ones. “Zion wanted to be an actor, so now he’s in the porn industry. Janet wanted the stability of a job, so now she’s laundering blood money and lying her way in court about hiding dead bodies! That sounds right to you?”

“That’s doesn’t mean—” Yvan started, but Simon cut it off.

“What about V then?” he asked viciously, and was satisfied to see Yvan’s gaze darken. Yvan was always more receptive when it came to blaming V, and his heart fluttered with the sickest hope it could, _would_ actually work this time. “What did he want? He wanted Erika to be free of her suffering, and _you_ wished for V and Erika to split up, but somehow I don’t think you both meant for her to _die_ for it to happen, am I right?”

Yvan just stared at him, mouth agape, and suddenly Simon didn’t care if he got it any longer. It felt liberating to voice the curse aloud, to purge some despair out of his system by unrolling the theory to its miserable end.

“That girl is the same as us, Yvan. She probably wished for Prince Charming, for an easy life, what do I know how she phrased it, it doesn’t matter—Jehan always wish for a girl who’ll love him as he is, and so they met, but…the dynamic gets more abusive each time. _Each…goddamn…time_ ” he stressed through clenching teeth. No matter how positive he was that the new setting would upset the loop into a different ending, or how he tried to influence it. At some point ( _when it was too late_ ), he remembered it all, and could just watch it unfold like Odin foresaw Ragnarok.  

“Simon?” Yvan asked timidly, unsure and uncomprehending, but still so willing and empathic. “What about you? I mean, according to your, your…” he searched for the correct word, something else than _your crazy delusions_ , and failing to find any, just jumped to the question. “… What did you wish for?”

 _I wished to be free of my karma. I wanted out of the never-ending reset._ And the universe had listened to him, and he was thrown out of the original game, only it had been worse, and had constantly been since. Every time he wished for it, it just got worse. And worse. And _worse_.

“Simon?”

He thought about saying that to Yvan, then thought better of it. _Always_ , the curse went. How foolish had he just been to try to say it? Who knew how karma would avenge itself on Yvan if he did so?

“…Nevermind, I’m just drunk” he said at last with a sad smile, and didn’t miss how Yvan’s shoulders dropped in relief. “I’m afraid if you thought things were bad, they’re just about to get worse though” he warned, before dropping the bomb. “Thunderwood betrayed us. That’s why I was here, actually.”

“ ** _What?_** _”_ Yvan barked in surprise, now thoroughly distracted from his own suffering. “Simon, I’m so sorry. Thunderwood was the one who introduced you to the group, right? How are you holding up?”

“They asked Sebastian to prepare the odopium darts for the interrogation” Simon shrugged, not mentioning how passionately he _hated_ when Sebastian was put on odopium duty. It was like asking an ex-smoker to roll cigarettes; it was dangerous in more ways than one, considering Sebastian’s relative state of mind. “We only have his underling for now, but it’s just a matter of time before we get to him, and then…”

He trailed off with another shrug, not needing to tell what they both knew: all hell would break loose.

“I better get back to my post, then. The Boss will probably want to meet us soon” Yvan concluded after a few seconds of contemplation, resolutely standing up and acknowledging him with a small nod of his head. “Thanks for listening, Simon. I’m feeling a bit better.”

“Anytime. And Yvan?” Simon called just as the younger man reached the door, waiting for him to turn around. “If you’re ever confused again, you can come cry on my shoulder anytime. I could make you feel a _lot_ better” he promised with a wink, a sadistic smirk tugging at the corners of his lips.

“You’re really drunk. Dumbass” Yvan muttered, shuffling away before Simon could see him blush.

***

Just as Yvan predicted, Jehan arranged for all the higher-ups for the organization to meet later this afternoon. The tone was set as soon as he refused to sit at the end of the ridiculously long mahogany table, preferring to pace deliberately slowly as he surveyed each of them like a panther biding its time, his cold gaze sending ripples of unease all the way to the other end of the ostentatious furniture. It would only take one wrong twitch of the cheek or a single bead of sweat on the temple to invite his wrath; Jehan wasn’t known for empathizing with the sickening amounts of stress he inflicted on his subordinates. In his book, nervousness was a sign of guilt, and he wouldn’t hesitate to torture someone he suspected of treason, a fact they could all witness to its full potential as they watched the video of the underling’s interrogation.

“I couldn’t be clearer even if I spelled it, you stupid fucktards! I said Thunderwood hid your fucking merch in the sewers of Coney’s district!” the man was screaming, hanging upside down like a pig about to be butchered. “ _Release me!”_

“There’s no such place” Jehan pointed in a deceptively calm voice, picking a knife from a nearby counter.

“Not my fault if you’re all a bunch of uneducated motherfuckers, now let me— _AAAAAAA **AAAAHH!**_ ” howled the man as Jehan slashed his gut open and prompted Tim to burrow his hands inside with a flick of the knife. “You… **_you_** ” panted the man as Tim started pulling his innards out, his eyes seeking Jehan’s despite his head twitching left and right in agony. “You..’re finished…Quinn. Thunderwood…will…win! Ha… _haaaa-_ haa!!” he spat defiantly, an insane laugh bubbling out of his frothy lips.

There was the sound of a cellphone ringing in the screen and Jehan stopped the recording, his voice booming like a bolt of steel over the frozen assembly.

“Now I’m only going to say this once, and I do expect an answer for your collective’s well-being” he prefaced ominously, giving his threat a few seconds to sink in. “Does any of you know of which sewers he was referring to?”

“Are you serious?!” Zion roared in outrage. “If the computer didn’t know, how would we?! Do we look like history buffs to you?”

“I’m waiting” Jehan pressured implacably, ignoring Zion’s outburst like he was no more than a fly.

“For fuck’s sake, do we really care?” Zion continued unflinchingly, refusing to be dismissed. “The Chinese will be expecting the goods by tonight! We need to deliver as we promised or we’re screwed, that I know, _I_ was the one who negotiated that deal with them!” he stressed, his voice bursting with panic at the seams. “And dude, I’m sorry to say, but this would _never_ have happened if you were as sharp as usual, you’d have… _calculated_ Thunderwood’s betrayal like the robotic asshole you are, but _nooooo_ , you’re so wrapped up in your little… _pet project_ that your head could be shoved up your ass without you noticing” he sneered, pointing an accusatory finger in Jehan’s face and triggering the whole assembly into holding their breaths.

“…For a nuisance, you do keep saying the most useful things” Jehan replied after a beat, cocking his head to the side as he calmly pushed Zion’s hand away and reached for his phone. “I have to call my pet.”

“ _Did you_ _hear what I just said_ … _!_ ” Zion sputtered, his face turning red with rage as Jehan waved his hand to shush him like he was a temperamental child in need of attention, and dialed.

***

Your spirit was jolted awake by Jehan’s ringtone, your hands clasping around the cold metal of the phone like it would start pouring water in your mouth rather than soundwaves in your ear. All day long you had waited in the dark of the living room, hoping, _praying_ that Jehan would contact you; he had been so happy yesterday when you had sent him that ice cream picture, but his mood had fouled terribly after a call from his secretary, and you longed to hear that everything was settled and that he’d be back to your side soon. There was nothing as desirable as that feeling of bliss and rightness only his touch could provide; anything else had lost its appeal weeks ago.

“Master!” you cried out in relief, waiting for his directives. It’d be nice if he suggested a repeat of yesterday’s exercise. Crawling naked to the door to welcome him home had been deeply humiliating, but the utmost tenderness he had shown while he had wiped your tears and held your head to fill your mouth with his cock had been well worth it.    

“My pet, would you happen to know about Coney’s district?…” he asked without any preamble. He had the strict, no-nonsense tone he used with his employees, and your heart leaped as you realized he was turning to you for information. He probably was in a room full of his competent underlings, but still he relied on _you_ , his love, to provide him with answers, and you wouldn’t let this chance to prove your worth go to waste.

“I do, Master…!” you swore, your mind flashing with a long-buried memory. Since living with Jehan, your past was fading into a grey shade of indifference, but you supposed nobody could forget where they were the day of the outbreak. “It’s one of the names of the old part of the K area, before they modernized it to a residential zone? Not many use it now, since Connelly erased all records of Coney’s stranglehold in the land upon seizing power, and since their initials are the same one is usually mistaken for the other, but it was around the years…” You raked your brain, desperately trying to remember more, before stifling a sob. “…I’m sorry, Master, I don’t remember the exact date, but it was at least sixty years ago. But there should be an entry still bearing Coney’s mark in the catacombs bordering the playground of St-Mark’s elementary school!” you added precipitously, hungry to give him whatever he sought out of the question; that had been where you had hidden during those infernal hours after all, and you’d never forget Coney’s name branded on the manhole over your head.

“Nevermind, that was more than enough. You’re such a good girl” came the creamy chocolate of his voice, rich with pride and satisfaction, and you sighed in contentment, giving the screen of your phone a small reverent kiss. “I’ll put you on conference call now, and you’ll repeat all that you told me to everyone, understood?”

“Yes Mast—” you started, but he was already gone, replaced by the echoing quality of the speaker mode.

“As it happens, my pet has a diploma in urban history, amongst her many qualifications” he introduced, and you couldn’t help the burning blush spreading on your cheeks as you heard him refer to you as his _pet_ in front of who knew how many persons, but his next words stole your attention before you could decide how you felt about it: “While you all complained about this information being impossible to find, _she_ was able to answer me in mere seconds” he continued, his copious praise making you deaf to the menacing undertones meant for your audience. “My love, if you could repeat?”

“…the playground of St-Mark’s elementary school” you repeated faithfully. It was the first time he had praised you for something else than your submission, and your navel was tingling with an eager arousal of what his reward would be, pushing you to volunteer more information. “It should be two blocks left of the Mariner boulevard—”

“Excellent, excellent” Jehan cut you. “Simon, take a team with you to check it out and report to me as soon as you find our missing shipment.”

“What? That’s too vague! I mean, I’m sorry Boss, if I had the whole day, that’d be okay, but that place is a maze, and it’s mid-afternoon already…” he fumbled, most likely trying to find the right words to appeal his case without sounding like a slacker, “I think it’d be better if she came with us, sir, respectfully, just to cover all possibilities—”

“That’s out of the question—” Jehan interrupted brusquely, seizing the phone to cut the speaker function and leave you with only his side of the conversation, waiting and worrying as you heard them continue to argue, until his voice regained the velvety quality he used when addressing your well-being:

“How do you feel about it, my pet? The timing is a bit early, but if I take you out, can I trust you not to run?” he asked softly, his concern blowing over you ear like a warm breeze even as his words warned you of his expectations of utter obedience.

“Why would I run?” you answered automatically, _confusedly_ , your soul singing at the prospect of showing your commitment and mindless of the consequences.

“….Yes, that’s the right answer” he purred in satisfaction, and you beamed under the additional praise. “Pack your things then, we’re going on a trip. If you’re especially good, I’ll make you completely mine tonight” he promised before hanging up, leaving you standing with stars in your eyes and the most beatific smile gracing your lips.

His. _Finally._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope your enjoyed the glimpse into the backstory’s setting, though we won’t linger too much on the details (this is after all an AU about a twisted version of Jumin, so I doubt any one of you want more of those world-building descriptions past what the plot requires). I do hope to reutilize some themes and ideas for my game/drama CD project, so if you’re curious, please look forward to that!


	8. Please Break Me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry for the delay! This fic has been completed a long time ago on my Tumblr, but I just totally forgot to update it here @_@ I think this is the most twisted chapter I’ve ever wrote, all fandoms included. No matter how frustrated I am with this story, I’m a least proud of pushing my limits in exploring the kink. On that note, please mind the updated tags! There's shame related to bladder control in this chapter. Don’t read past the moment Jehan wakes you up if you are uncomfortable with this theme!

_Think of all the joy you’ll find_ __  
When you leave the world behind  
And bid your cares goodbye  
You can fly! You can fly! You can fly!

-Peter Pan (1953)

…

 _“You can’t be serious!”_  Maria had shouted in outrage.  _“Sweet baby Jesus, please think of your future!”_

 _“That’s exactly what I’m doing”_ you had replied as calmly as you could while continuing to polish the glasses. It had been your last day at Aldo’s place, and you had refused to sour it by fighting with her, no matter how much her relentless criticizing of Jehan unnerved you.

 _“Sister, you can’t, you just can’t”_ she had stammered, her spanish accent growing with her agitation. _“If you accept that creep’s offer, you’ll be no more than a dog. You won’t even be able to piss without his permission! Do you want his dick so bad”_ she had stressed, almost spitting the words in hatred,  _“that you’re willing to be treated as less than human just for the sake of being called his girlfriend?”_

 _“For the last time, I’m **not**  his girlfriend!”_ you had managed through gritted teeth. It hurt enough that she had refused to congratulate you, but her deliberate insistence at calling you his  _girlfriend_ when she  _knew_  you weren’t had just been pouring salt in the wound.  _“Look, do we really have to argue about this? I got a new job and a new apartment, so why can’t you just be happy for me?”_  you remembered sighing, eager for your mind to be free of her nagging and move on to brighter thoughts—like Jehan, and how amazing your life would be from now on—  

 _“Because you’re not listening! Because you’re being stupid!”_  Maria had replied hotly, each of her words a new blow.  _“He’s a lying, murdering, psycho son of a bitch, and you’ll regret it—”_   

 _“Enough! You’re the one not listening!”_ you had finally snapped when tears threatened to spill on your cheeks, effectively cutting her rant. _“What do you want me to say, that I’ll regret having an easier life, that I wish to remain poor like you?”_ youhad added with more venom than necessary, before biting your lip at her stricken face. “ _Look, you’re my friend, and I thank you for worrying, but… You’re overreacting. He’s been nothing but a gentleman to me so far, and that’s a fact. And all the crime and murder stuff you keep warning me about, they have never been proven, and that’s **also a fact!** ”_ you had pointed. “ _So I guess I’m sorry if the truth makes me a stupid person, but it’s going to happen”_  you had concluded in an anxious puff, suddenly unable to look at her any longer.

 _“I know, bambina”_  Maria had answered after several seconds of heavy silence, her tone very soft and sad.  _“But dead people can’t tell the truth, and that’s also a fact, right?”_

 _“I—”_ you had started, but the memory was drowned in the creaking of the door, and your thoughts realigned themselves as Jehan stepped inside.

“ ** _MASTER_** _!”_  you screamed in adoration, scampering off your chair to launch yourself at him.  _“Master, you’re back! You’re back! I missed you so much!”_ you continued to chant, your entire body wriggling in happiness like a fish at the end of a line.

“My pet” he greeted with just as much devotion, engulfing you in the confines of his coat. His embrace was like a cocoon—dark and soft against your naked skin, and his voice reverberated around you in concern while he cupped the firm roundness of your ass: “Are you really ready to go or do you need a bit more training?..”

“I’ll be good, Master!” you swore whole-heartedly, the words rushing out of your mouth in your eagerness for his pride and your promised reward. “I’ll just grab my shirt and—” 

“What for?” he interrupted in a deceptively honeyed tone, and you froze instantly in recognition of its meaning.  _Did you make a mistake again?_

“To-to c-cover m-m-myself, Master, s-so y-your friends d-don’t…” you stammered, doubting your own words as they came out and ultimately unable to say more.  Where had you taken the notion that you could decide for Jehan if it was acceptable to exhibit you or not? 

“You don’t need to dress yourself to go out” Jehan affirmed gravely, for once not quite angry as patient. “Pets don’t need clothes, do they? And you are a good pet, aren’t you?” he cajoled with veiled disappointment, fingers extending to part your folds and test the wetness of your core.

 _“Aaah!_ I am, Master!.. I am!” you moaned, desperately swallowing your protests as a first digit invaded you. Jehan had promised he’d fill you with his cock if you were good, and it’d be so wonderful, so blissfully  _wonderful_ —

“Such a good pet, always ready to receive her master” Jehan remarked against your ear, making you shiver at the praise as the rest of his fingers easily sunk in your depths and found your clit. “Why are you afraid?” he murmured as he lazily started to stroke you, making your eyes roll back and your fists grab the lapels of his coat for support.“Do you think I’ll let any of them see you? I’d rather knife their eyes” he assured, warming your heart with morbid veneration. “But you…I want you proud to be mine, wherever we are” he clarified, sending a jolt of ecstasy through your entire being.

“ _Aaaah!_  Yes, Master! I’m proud to be yours!  _Ahh, ahh!_    _I-I’m a good pet! I don’t need clothes!_ ” you swore, your soul corrupted with desire as he obligingly began to pump you faster.

“That’s it…” he encouraged as you started rocking your hips and whimpering against his throat like a starved puppy. “Your body knows what to do. Look at how lewd it has become” he prompted smugly, turning you around so you both faced the hall’s mirror. You could only watch, entranced and feverish, as your reflection showed the results of months of insidious captivity:  a slave to pleasure, face flushed with greed, relentlessly and shamelessly fucking her pussy on her Master’s fingers in total abandon. The picture was both beautiful and damning, sparking your memory with a vision from long ago; it was enough to make you suddenly tremble and close your eyes, tears brimming at your lashes.

“Don’t close your eyes. You’re nearly perfect now” Jehan complimented, his voice a hoarse whisper that belied his own excitation. His hand pressed you closer to him until you felt the outline of his cock through his pants, and you cried in need, wantonly rubbing yourself against the bulge. “My greedy kitty” Jehan praised adoringly at your actions, peppering your nape with reverent kisses, his tone more amorous than ever, “I can’t wait either to be in you at last” he rasped, the admission frying your mind with lust. A frustrated sob escaped your throat even as you felt him smile against your temple.

“Shhh, it’s coming, my pet, as soon as we’re back from that errand. Unless you still think of something else but me?”

You shook your head rapidly, your brain empty but for the delight coursing through it. And it was true; flashbacks of the past were nothing but bolts of lightning when you were alone, too vivid to miss and yet too quick to remember. By the time he ordered you to come and tipped your face up to swallow your moans, you had already forgotten all about the outside world, most of all Maria and her warnings.

***

The ride to and in the car was an uneventful haze, only disturbed by the strangest noise outside once you veered on what had to be a bridge—not that you could tell, considering Jehan had insisted your wear a mask to avoid undue stress. He, however, had been deeply displeased, and ordered the driver to drown it in classical music.

“Don’t worry” he had reassured when you lifted your unseeing eyes at his outburst, pressing your head back on his lap and resuming the massage of your scalp. “I won’t let those irritating insects, or  _anything_  from the world outside upset you, my pet” he had promised. Despite his words, smooth and cool as always, you had felt the tension running through him; it was in the sudden stiffness of his thighs, the twitch of his fingertips as they scratched all the way down to your collar and traced its length with pressure that bordered on hurtful. As ridiculous as it sounded, it appeared the noise was making your man nervous, in that controlled fashion he expressed anything, and you weren’t sure how to appease him.

“Master?” you inquired timidly when at last he told the driver to turn it down, but remained just as tense.

“Open your thighs” Jehan commanded, his voice twisted with unusual possessiveness. His breathing was uneven and you hurried to comply, crying out in unexpected joy as he thoroughly soaked his fingers in your honeypot and started pumping you without any other preamble. “Do you hear that?” he pressed as the moist sound of pussy being assaulted filled the compartment. “That’s the sound of a good pet recognizing its Master. It means you’re mine. And you’re happy to be mine, aren’t you?”

“Yes Master! Yes!” you mewled obediently, but that didn’t seem to be enough; his fingers turned punitive, and you cried out in utter submission: “ _I am!_  I’m so happy to be your pet, Mast– _ahhh!_   **Ahh!**  Yes!  ** _Yes, Master!_** ” you moaned lustfully as Jehan pounded your orgasm out of you, stealing your breath away and forcing your body to cum until your juices gushed on your thighs in an obscene stream. “I’m…so happy….” you repeated as the euphoria ebbed away and you regained your senses.

“Shhh, I know. I want to trust you too” he whispered in a much calmer tone, caressing your patch until the car slowed down. “Now remember: just show them where the entry is and we’ll go home. Don’t…stray” he added somewhat vulnerably before moving to open the door, and your heart swelled with a violent burst of love. His irrational fear of losing you from his sight, like a gust of wind would spirit you away, was unexpectedly adorable… Unless he was still worried that you would run, which was just as unexplainable, especially after his previous ministrations.

That is, until you actually got out.

You couldn’t tell what did it, exactly. Perhaps the scent of fresh air rushing in the car as Jehan opened the door, not something out of a conditioner, or just the sensation of real grass under your feet as he helped you outside, the green stems tickling your toes in a way no synthetic fiber ever could; perhaps it was even less than that, merely the lifting of your mask to reveal the playground of St. Mark Elementary School, its lawn and trees blooming with colorful flowers, and the sudden realization that it was already late spring. Considering you had moved at the end of fall, that meant…

_…just how long had you been confined in Jehan’s apartment?_

“My pet?” Jehan asked in worry, still holding you close to him. “Are you alright? I promise, none of my men are looking at you” he reiterated solicitously, motioning to the small army of mobsters pointedly staring away.

“That…” you replied, at loss for words. To be honest, his underlings weren’t even registering, though they should have—after all, why should it matter which silly season it was? Your perception of time had just skewed because of how happy you were, that’s all—so what if you had stayed more than a few weeks in the new apartment?

_So what if you spent it all becoming Jehan’s obedient pet?_

The last thought sent adrenaline coursing through your veins, its rush so mad with the need to bolt that it made you dizzy, which was absurd.  All you needed to do was to retrace the steps you took on that fateful day long ago, then Jehan would take you home and the strangeness would be over, and this feeling of panic that was growing in your breast would be nothing but the echo of a time long past—for that was what this was, right? Just the memory of a trauma messing with your mind. Everything was fine, for Jehan was there—

Over his shoulder, you suddenly saw a man with red hair and striped glasses mouthing the same word over and over while looking straight at you, his eyes not as much judgemental as pitying, and you became acutely aware of what he was seeing: a girl stripped bare of clothes and dignity, juices still running down her thighs, collared as a bitch in heat and exceptionally taken out on an errand in exchange to be fucked.

 _…“Do you want his dick so bad”_ a voice long forgotten resounded,  _“that you’re willing to be treated as less than human just for the sake of being called his girlfriend?”…_  

“My love?” Jehan asked again as you started hyperventilating, his alarmed tone snapping your attention right back to him, and you dissolved in tears.

 _“I’m not alright! My brain hurts! I feel weird!”_  you cried, grabbing a fistful of his shirt in terror. The sunlight was suddenly blinding you, the very air you breathed was burning your lungs, and you wanted, you were about to— _“Master, take me home!”_ you wailed at last, which seemed to confirm his worst fears. His arms swiftly hooked behind your knees and shoulders, lifting you off the ground and pushing your nose deep into the crook of his neck, and his voice became a stream of soothing yet agitated commands.

“It’s alright, my pet, it’s alright” he cooed as he rushed you back in the car. “Just breathe, my love, and hold out your hands, please? Yes, just like that” he praised as he fished a pair of handcuffs from his pocket and fastened them around your wrist and the seat handle, effectively trapping you inside. “Everything is fine now. You cannot run. You’re with me. You’ll always be with me” he promised fervently, before kissing you quickly on the forehead. “I’ll be right back. Just hold on” he instructed, closing the door on you.

You continued to cry, digging your skin in the cruel metal of the handcuff until your heartbeat stopped pounding in your head. Its cold bite was a relief, like a physical manifestation of your link to Jehan, and you relished its presence with numbing gratitude.

It’s not like you  _could_  have run, considering how surrounded you were. But now you truly  _couldn’t_ , and the absence of the choice felt like a liberation.

“He loves me.  _He loves me!_ ” you said to the empty space, clinging to the words like a lifeline. No matter if the strange red man warned you to, no matter what your gut told you, you wouldn’t run. You were a good pet. Domesticated. Faithful.  _Happy_.

***

“I’m so sorry about this” Jehan murmured to your inert form upon returning, gently rearranging your head on his lap. “I should never have taken you out” he apologized, his voice roughening with self-loathing once he took in your tear-stricken face. Even after crying yourself to sleep, fat drops were still rolling down your cheeks, belying the depth of your anguish, and a deep sense of failure seized him. He had been  _so close_  to mold you painlessly to his ideal; now his efforts were ruined. No matter what he did, he wouldn’t be able to merely seduce you into ignoring the outside world anymore, or at least not permanently. The knowledge would still be festering deep in of your mind, its swarm of unwanted questions only waiting for the slightest occasion to sting you like hundreds of righteous bees.

No, he couldn’t have that. As your owner, it was his responsibility to ensure that you suffered as little as possible, which now meant finishing bending you to his will as fast a possible. It was regrettable, but it seemed a more forceful way would be necessary after all.

Still, the training hadn’t been a total loss, and he was certain that you’d break for good with minimal effort. There was no point in brainwashing you through aggressive hypnosis or subvert your psyche with massive doses of odopium, not when you had so sweetly begged him for help as a true wounded pet would. This, at least, filled him with an immense sense of pride, and he tenderly caressed your face in adoration. Distressed or not, you had fought your own instinct to escape, which was the ultimate proof of your commitment. There was no doubt anymore in his mind that your meeting was meant to be, that you  _wanted_  this as much as he wanted it; that you truly relished submitting to him and embraced the significance of the collar around your neck.

“Now that it has come to this… I’m strangely satisfied. Just thinking how thoroughly you’ll belong to me afterwards… I can’t wait either” he whispered to your ear with a small tremble, then cupped your face as your eyelids fluttered open. He wouldn’t— _couldn’t_  deny you both such a pure love any longer. “Wake up, my pet. It’s time to become mine.”

***

“My sweet kitten” Jehan greeted when you woke up, the nickname briefly soothing you before the last events rushed to your mind and clouded your eyes with anguish. “Shhh, it’s going to be alright” he promised when you opened your mouth to talk. “Just drink this” he encouraged while bringing a bottle to your lips, and you nodded, swallowing gulp after gulp after gulp until it felt like you would drown or choke on it. Still, you kept at it diligently, guided by Jehan’s patient reassurance: 

“That’s it, drink it all… Just a bit more… Good girl” he praised as the last drop went in. “Now we only got to wait a bit” he announced, unlocking your chain before draping a blanket on his lap and dragging your exhausted frame on it. “How do you feel?”

“I…I love you, Master” you mewled, which wasn’t much of a reply, but Jehan seemed to understand nonetheless.

“I love you too, my pet” he declared passionately, making your heart ache in sick longing. “Shhh” Jehan pacified as you started sobbing anew, “Outside was just a bad dream. You’ll forget all about it soon, don’t worry” he promised, bringing you close to rub your back in soothing circles like you were a small child, and your tears subsided despite your fears.  

“That’s it… Just relax and let me touch you” he cooed, and you welcomed the distraction of pleasure. Your tired body offered no resistance as he started stimulating your breasts, rolling their tips until they peaked in stiff and utterly sensitive buds. “Do you remember our first supper together?” he asked as he pinched them rhythmically, his words hypnotizing you like a snake. “How your breasts called to me through your dress, how shy you were to take your clothes off, and how free you felt after?”

“A-aah! Yes, Master..!” you agreed, your core throbbing at the mere recollection. Even after, it had taken Jehan’s patient grooming night after night, his tactful suggestions that you were dressed too much, that he didn’t want you to hide yourself from his gaze, that your beauty shined most with just the simplest collar, until the merest fabric started to feel constricting and wrong; Jehan liked it best when you waited for him curled on the carpet, thighs open, glistening and ready for his worshipful attention, and there was no sweeter reward than his delight as you  embraced yet more ways to let yourself be lavished in his passion.

“Do you remember the first time I bathed you?…” he continued, as if reading your thoughts. “Do you remember how good it felt to entrust the care of your body to me, to have me wash your most secret places and let me witness what a lewd kitty you are?” he urged, one hand roughening your left breast as the other trailed down to your treacherous canal, already famished for his attention.

“I remember, Master!  _Ah!_ ” you moaned, letting the memories arouse you further. To have him touch you was one thing, but to offer yourself to his critical gaze, as holes to brush and clean to his satisfaction, had been quite another. It had shamed you to raise your ass to his inspections, to be unable to control your body’s reactions and have your cunt spasming and dripping while he washed you, to hear your own moans reverberated on the tiles like those of wanton bitch as you kept dirtying yourself with more juices, but Jehan had been so enchanted that you had learned to look forward to it, just like anything else he suggested.

“Do you remember how shy you had been to lap milk from a bowl and mewl when you wanted to be fed?” he pressed on further, both hands now busy on your flower, rubbing, grazing and pumping in long, coaxing strokes, and you moaned again as he sunk his teeth in the smooth skin of your collarbone. “Do you?”

“I do, Master!!” you cried out, lustfully rocking your hips to meet him. Jehan had been so wonderfully patient with this, never rushing you once as you took progressive steps from licking your wine glass when you dined with him to getting down on all fours to eat your cereals, and though it had been humiliating at first his copious praise as you became a better pet had been well worth it, especially when you noticed how much it aroused him. His eyes would flash with such sinful satisfaction when you would put extra effort that he would sometimes let you suck on his cock or rub it on your swollen pussy lips, making you shiver in anticipation of this moment when he would just push your legs further apart and bury himself to the brink—

 _“MASTER!”_  you cried out helplessly, pleasure now simmering so thoroughly in your veins that it covered your eyes with a white haze.  “Master, please! I want you inside me! You promised me!” you begged at last. You could imagine his seed spurting inside you, his engorged length pushing its flow ever deeper inside you,  _claiming_  you—

“I’m yours” he replied breathlessly, “all yours, my pet.” His eyes had taken a strange hue, as if illuminated by the very fires of madness, then the moment ended abruptly. “As soon as you pee.”

“…Master?” you replied dumbly, unsure. Pee where? Was he going to stop the car?

“You must be close to your limit now, aren’t you?” he inquired softly, pressing on your swollen bladder, and you gasped at how painfully full it was. The need to urinate had been growing steadily underneath the current of lust, but couldn’t be held in much more longer, you realized in panic.

“Shhh” Jehan soothed as you started to hyperventilate again. “It’s alright, don’t be ashamed. Just let it all go on the blanket. You’ll feel free as soon as you relish all control of your body to me, I promise” he persisted, but you shook you head in denial.

“ ** _Jehan, I can’t!_** ” you protested, the spell completely broken.  To pee on a blanket… In front of him…! “That’s…that’s…!” you stuttered, fumbling for the right word.  _Dirty. Humiliating. Debasing_.

“ ** _Master_** ” he corrected sternly, pinching your ass hard in warning. “And yes, you can” he insisted in utmost benevolence. “Just how many times have I told you that you can act like a total baby with me?”

“ _But I’m not a—!”_  you protested again, before your voice caught in your throat.  What could you say? Babies at least had diapers; pets, on the other hand—

“That’s right” Jehan confirmed, his middle finger grazing your slit possessively. “You’re my pet, and good pets don’t feel shame at peeing in front of their Masters, do they?…They let their Masters help them feel good. You want to feel good, don’t you?” he asked insidiously to your ear.

“ ** _Please_** —” you pleaded desperately, feeling your body struggle to keep it in.

 ** _“Obey me, pet_** ” he ordered in a harsh growl, pressing his other hand mercilessly against your now aching bladder, and you sobbed in acute shame as the first drops leaked out on the blanket. “There, it’s almost over” Jehan consoled you, covering your face in loving kisses. “Stop thinking and pee. This is just like all the other things we do together. You grew to love them all afterwards, didn’t you?” he reminded before pausing, seeming to consider a different tactic. “Don’t you want my love anymore?”

 _“You know I do, Master!”_  you wailed, now crying in earnest, clearly seeing where this was going and sensing your defenses weakening. Months of training had taught your body that what Jehan judged best was indeed for the best, even when it seemed it wasn’t, and his arguments were seducing you with promises of ethereal freedom in his arms—not just by  _being,_  but by truly  _becoming_  his pet, a creature free from the taboos and worries of the human world, fed, wiped and cared for in ecstatic dependency, and it sung to you irresistibly.  _“I do so much!”_

“Then pee. Pee  ** _now_** ” he ordered, inflexible, and you hiccupped but nodded at last, forcing your sphincter to relax as he wished, wailing all the way through. Your soul was utterly breaking itself, throbbing one last time in its missed pieces that you had surrendered to Jehan for his jealous keeping, but just as he had promised, the shame was fading with the water, replaced by the most delicious, blissful feeling of elation. Something was happening to you inside, something  _magnificent_ , and it took you some time to realize the enraptured mewls you were hearing were coming from your own throat.

“Master! Master!” you were saying—or perhaps you just thought you were, and was in fact mewling as a real kitten. It didn’t matter much anymore.

“My pet.  _My beautiful pet_ ” Jehan said tenderly, his voice trembling in adoration with the rest of him, drinking in the mesmerizing vision you offered. He wanted you so much he thought he would burst if he didn’t take you right then and there; throwing the now useless blanket through the window, he deftly freed his length from his pants to crush you against him, letting the fluids of your mouths and sexes mix in frantic rubbing and searing kisses. “You’re ready to be mine now. You’re  _perfect_ ” he rasped once he pulled away, feverish with lust. His eyes were shining in the dimming light, glowing with something deeper than love, but darker than desire—an obsession as pure and beautiful as the one of Jumin Han, the very man of your life, summoned just like Candyman out of your most terrible dreams.

“Lift your hips, my pet” Jehan instructed amorously while positioning you over him, and you eagerly complied, hungry to be filled at last.

 _I’m so lucky_ , was your last thought, then there was nothing but paradise.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> GOD I can’t believe I wrote, much less published this. Did you guys enjoy it? (those who made it there…I suppose I lost a few with this chapter, not to mention the absurd amount of time it took me to post this in the first place T_T). In any case, we have the epilogue remaining, which I should upload this week-end :)


	9. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies to everyone who expected super filthy sex – after the last scene in chapter 8, my beta and I came to the conclusion that there was nothing left to add, so this epilogue is mainly to tie up the loose ends. Thanks for sticking with me so far, and enjoy! :)

“You know, I never understood why he chose to bury you here. It’s just so… _not you_ ” Simon stressed, then frowned at his inability to express himself better. He didn’t mean the emplacement of her grave, not really; no one could have argued that the place wasn’t as exceptionally beautiful as the girl it guarded. Delicate flowers constantly bloomed around the headstone, like each of them was a tear from the angel engraved at its top; even the leaves of the willows surrounding it seemed to weep with gentle elegance, which was everything Erika had been.  Gentle. Elegant. And weeping, though most of them were too jaded or tactful to remember that fact. 

 _“Wouldn’t it be wonderful to live in a world without suffering, Simon?..”_  she used to ask. Hopeful, at first, as all idealists are; no amount of problems ever seem too many for serious caritative work to overcome, especially once the cure for the lentivirus was found. Years and repetition, however, slowly moved her focus from those solved to those remaining, until simple math laid the truth bare; it’d never be enough.  For one tree of misery down, a whole forest grew in its place; and while a more philosophical person would have argued that it was even more reason to keep trying, Erika’s fire turned inwards instead.  Guilt for those she was unable to save burned her soul like a fiery sun, and whereas despair drove her mind to radical cultism in the first loop, here she just escaped her cousin’s fretful watch, picked a bunch of syringes and walked straight into an odopium den.

With predictable results, considering the crazed junkies inside, although he wasn’t sure she had anticipated just how utterly brutal a death it would be. If not for herself, then for her loved ones; he couldn’t believe she was so far gone that she hadn’t considered how traumatizing it would be for Yvan to scrap her remains off the floor.  Perhaps she had simply thought they’d choke or bludgeon her to get the drug, and that eternal darkness wouldn’t come first soaked in red.  

Or maybe she  _did_  know, and chose to do it nonetheless; it’s not like she left a note to explain any of it. V swore it had been suicide by proxy and nothing else, and though it had certainly  _had_  been, Simon liked to think there had been more to it; that her recklessness had in fact been defiance, like a giant middle finger to the Fates that governed this world. It comforted him like a mug of hot chocolate, whenever he thought too hard about his own predicament, to imagine there had been  _meaning_  to an otherwise pointless end; to entertain that perhaps she had  _known_ , too, and sought her own exit. The theory that her own script prescribed that she always brought people down with her could be as good as any, after all; it  _was_  possible that she tried a scenario where it didn’t mean for innocents or her fiancé to suffer needlessly.

Not that she could verify it or that it actually worked even a teensy little bit; as such, he supposed Jehan’s choice of scenery made some kind of sense, at least on a symbolic level. Erika slept forever in her little plot of paradise, and the path to it was bordered with hellish gore; people who were crucified, dismembered, hanging by their entrails in a chorus of agonized moans that could be heard all the way up to the bridge like supplicants waiting to cross to the other side,  _her_  side, where forgiveness and peace might wait.

They certainly wouldn’t find any on this side. Identifiable as Jumin as Jehan might be, he had none of his Christian faith or capacity for mercy; and while V might have once have the heart to influence his friend, this version actually  _thanked_  him for being so gruesome.  Simon would have called it a perversion of the established order, but the recent events made him doubt he could even cling to that as a reference to what was supposed to be.

Hence why he was here.

“I don’t know where to begin, to be honest” he said out loud. Thoughts were bouncing in his head like in a ping-pong game, and it was hard to pick what was the most important. “I know you’d say to start with the beginning, but there’s not much on that side. We found the Chinese goods – thankfully, God, we did, otherwise I don’t know how many people Jehan would have shot to motivate us, I mean he was so pissed when his pet had her meltdown—” he rambled, then winced at his choice of words. There was really no hope if even he had internalized her as  _pet_  rather than  _girl_ , which was both the crux of the problem and not.

“It broke Yvan, in any case” he continued with practiced detachment.  He wasn’t sure if he had  _seen_  the girl or not, but the crazed look in his eyes when he had raced in his apartment left no doubt that he had pieced enough to understand, and, well — Simon had done his best to distract him with his dick, but hadn’t been able to stay hard very long once Yvan suggested he could be his puppy.  It wasn’t just the frail way he said it, like he was trying to make the girl’s plight  _okay_  by embracing it too, but his own reaction to the idea; for a brief second, he had been tempted to agree. It’d be trading a scar for another, sure, but Yvan would be happy, and—

He had snarled in disgust, at himself, as a warning, and Yvan hadn’t understood and ran away in tears, and he had been left… not caring, because he really didn’t, but…  _wondering_. For all the worsening of the loop, it was still the first time he thought Yvan could have been  _happy_.

And the girl  _was_  happy too, from what he understood. It was a horrible kind of happy, but she was happy nonetheless, blissfully so, apparently. Rumour had it that she rolled at Jehan’s feet every night in an imitation of a cat begging to be played with, with no sound out her lips but mewls of delight. Not that Jehan ever confirmed it, but the walls weren’t totally soundproofed, and she wasn’t exactly discreet in her appreciation of him. And if that was truly the case, then…

“I suppose I should mention her friend too, before going any further” he sighed. It hadn’t been pleasant to go behind his brother’s back and check the logs of his “volunteers” – poor saps who didn’t know better and were roped in with promises of a fat paycheck and an entry point into Jehan’s organization. Once they realized they were to be used as lab rats for his odopium’s experimentations until madness ensued, it was typically much too late.

He wondered if Maria had known the risks and still soldiered on for the sake of her friend, or if her demise at been by design. Another wish gone wrong,  _phrased_  wrong, “please, God, give me another opportunity to reach her”, and the next morning in the newspapers, that treacherous ad shining like gold—

Not that it mattered. The only detail of importance was that she hadn’t succeeded, because the previous times her role had; and while he at first had chalked it up to the worsening of the loop, suddenly he wasn’t so sure. Her death, cruel as it was, had after all reinforced the chances of the girl becoming Jehan’s pet, and thus,  _happy_ —

And, well, what if the loop wasn’t worsening every time, as he first assumed, but just…  _reverting?_

Which was easily the most horrifying theory he ever had. To think perhaps what he considered the first world was in fact the last, and that the pendulum was just swinging back to its previous status quo, and that everyone would soon become so… twistedly  _happy_ again?

He’d rather die than ever having to find out what that meant for everyone, though he suspected dying wouldn’t be quite enough.

“I thought you would understand best” he confessed to the tomb. Since she made the same wish, in her way, it stood to reason she would give him her blessings was she alive.

“I’m going to make another wish to be free of the loop, ‘Rika” he admitted at last, his voice strengthening as his will took shape. “But not for myself, this time. I’m going to wish that every fucked up part of ourselves go their merry way to have their own brand of happy, in their own bibbity bobbity universe, I don’t give a shit as long as it let us return to what is right. Jumin will turn back into that good old robot we all know and love, and his Jehan part will go fuck girls into his obedient pets in another dimension, and it if it means I’m condemning a whole galaxy to misery, then so be it. I mean we’ll never know, right? We’ll be happy. And you’ll be too, this time, damn it.”

There was sudden gust of wind, a gentle breeze like a caress against his cheek, and he smiled one last time before pushing the words out his mouth:

**_“I wish…”_ **

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “Puppy, why did you end it so quickly? We were just getting to the good part!” I hear you say. Not because I’m tired of writing, fear not, but because as I wrote this story I began to be more and more frustrated by the restraints of it being a fanfic – meaning I had to respect Jumin’s boundaries as a character, no matter how much I twisted him, and that severely limited me in what I could do with him. I dunno for you, but I want more – I want a story with a Jumin-type character where I can go all out on the kink scale without having to hold myself back because shit that’s not Jumin-esque enough. I want him psychopathic. I want him creepy as fuck. I want him out of his yandere mind at power 100000000000. If you wish for that too, I invite you to follow me on Tumblr and see what I can come up with; for the others, no worries, any other fanfic will still be updated on AO3!^-^


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